We'll Always Have Paris
by a-delacroix
Summary: ***Complete*** Annie, Auggie, and their team are in Paris on a mission when Annie's life takes a radical turn. Note: This is a Highlander crossover.
1. Chapter 1

8/27/2010

We'll always have Paris

Chapter 1

"Wake up, honey. Annie, you have to wake up. Come on, girl, we have to get out of here now and I'm so not going to carry you."

These and similar words were being repeated over and over, as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Although I think the brisk shaking of my shoulders was having a more immediate effect than the words.

"Stop it, I'm awake," I said, or tried to say, as at first the words seemed to be all slurred together.

Before I even had a chance to open my eyes, I felt myself being pulled roughly up into a sitting position.

"Annie, we have to move now. More guards are on their way."

The voice, a female voice with a hint of a Parisian accent, sounded vaguely familiar. As I forced my eyes open, my brain seemed to start firing on most of its cylinders, as my Dad used to say.

I was in Paris on a mission. And then before the woman's face came completely into focus, her words began to register. Guards were on their way. If I was caught, the mission would be jeopardized.

Then the woman's face did come into focus. She had extremely short hair that had been bleached such a light shade of blonde as to look white. She had dark eyes that hinted at danger and her small, thin lips, which looked potentially stern and mischievous at the same time, were coated with dark red lipstick. It finally all came together and her name came back or at least partially back – Amanda something. I had only met her once before. It had been the previous evening at the gala reception at the Swiss Embassy. My team had been there because of a tip an illegal arms meeting was going down under the cover of the party.

For some reason Amanda had walked up to me and started a conversation. Since I could still observe my assigned target, Abdul bin Sarondi, I had used the conversation to maintain my cover. Amanda had opened the conversation in French and started talking fashions. I thought my French was accent-free, but obviously not, as in less than thirty seconds she switched to English. The conversation had meandered for a few minutes until I abruptly realized I was talking about my personal life. Oh, not that I was a spy, but about my cover story of working at the Smithsonian and then about living in my sister's guesthouse.

Damn, she had been good and I had wondered who she was working for. It had to be some other spy agency, although whether it was a friendly one or not, I had had no way of knowing. Of course, as Joan always said, 'There are no friendly spy agencies only temporary alliances'. And remembering my recent encounter with Lavine from the Mossad, I knew Joan was correct.

Then I had looked Amanda over with a more critical eye. She had a look any supermodel would envy. Tall and statuesque, in every sense of the word, she appeared trim and slender by being ultrafit rather than perpetually half-starved. She had been wearing a floor-length shimmering ruby-red gown with a plunging neckline. And dipping into the deep cleavage had been a large ruby, the exact shade of the gown, suspended from a diamond encrusted necklace. All-in-all, her outfit and jewelry had looked custom-designed to accentuate her body in the best possible light, unlike the cheap knockoff gown I had been wearing.

Suddenly, my still fuzzy brain took in the urgent expression on the woman's face and jumped from our previous meeting to the present.

I was in Sarondi's large penthouse apartment in one of the refurbished Louis the 14th era residences on the East Bank. I had been sent in to retrieve documents from his desk which should tell us where the arms deal was going down.

And then more of my memories came rushing back. Two guards had come upon me while I had been rifling the desk. Before I could react and without any request to surrender, they had opened fire. I had been hit at least twice before everything went blank.

All these thoughts flashed through my mind in about two seconds flat. Quickly my right hand went to my black garbed abs. The lighting was too dim to get a good look, but my hand came away all sticky and wet. When I held it up I could see the coating of blood.

"I was shot," I said numbly. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be any pain. Perhaps I was going into shock from the blood loss. "Am I dying?"

"Honey, you've already been dead."

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dead? How could I have been dead?

I was going to ask her what she was talking about, but she didn't give me a chance as she pulled me to my feet. I surprised myself by only swaying slightly as she knelt back down to retrieve something from the floor. As she stood back up it briefly flashed in the light from the desk lamp. It was a sword. What the hell was she doing with a sword? I had no idea where she had come from or why she was here other than it must have been a similar mission to the one I was on.

I still hadn't been issued a weapon for any of my assignments, even though I had completed all the required weapons training before I had been unceremoniously jerked out of the Farm for my first assignment. But even if I had been given a weapon, it certainly wouldn't have been A SWORD.

"What's with the sword?" I whispered, as Amanda pulled me towards the room's exit.

She glanced at it for a second and then with barely a flick of her wrist it vanished into her all-black outfit. She was wearing a matte black catsuit similar to mine with only a small backpack interrupting the formfitting lines. There didn't seem to be anywhere a sword with a three foot blade could possibly hide.

"Sorry," Amanda whispered back. "When I felt 'the buzz', I thought it was him."

The buzz. The sword. I had no idea what she was talking about.

As we reached the gilded and ornately carved doorway leading out into the corridor, I saw two large lumps lying on the shadowy floor. It was the two guards who had shot at me. No, who had SHOT me. In the darkness I couldn't tell if they were unconscious or dead, but I could see the gleaming forms of their silencer-equipped guns lying beside the bodies.

I was feeling almost like my normal self, as little sense as that made after having been shot in the gut several times. Therefore I paused to reach down to retrieve one of the weapons.

"Leave it, darling. Guns are so bourgeois," said Amanda, her French accent thickening on the last word.

For a moment thoughts of her sword flashed back through my mind. Did Amanda think we were living back in the Middle Ages or something? Well, I knew better and continued my move towards the nearer gun.

Amanda gave my arm a sharp jerk.

"No, guns are not for our kind," she said and now her voice seemed as hard as the steel in her hidden sword. "You saw how bullets can't kill you."

At least this comment appeared to be true. I had definitely been shot, but the only remaining evidence was two holes through my outfit and a large smear of blood down my front.

I had been shot, but was unhurt. Amanda was carrying a sword as her personal weapon. And guns weren't for 'our kind'. What was going on? The only thing that popped into my head that matched all these criteria, as crazy as it sounded, was 'vampires'. Had I somehow been turned into a vampire? I didn't remember being bitten.

As we reached the end of the corridor and I saw two more guards lying on the floor, I was busy feeling at my neck. It was suddenly all wet and sticky from the blood that had already been on my fingers, but I didn't feel any bite marks.

"Are we . . . vampires?" I asked, as we stepped out into the well-lit alcove which housed two elevators and a doorway marked 'Stairs' in French.

Amanda looked sharply at me and then her gaze went to my blood covered neck. She started to laugh as she briskly led the way over to the stairs.

"Well, that's a first," she said, as she got her laughter under control and pushed through the door.

Then she must have read something in my expression, as she continued with a quirk of her lips and a glint in her eyes.

"You're not a vampire, honey. You're IMMORTAL."

End of Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

First, I would like to say thanks to all the people who reviewed the first chapter, it is appreciated.

Second, based on the comments, it is obvious a lot of people didn't recognize this as a cross-over with the 1990s TV show, 'Highlander'. And apparently, a lot of people haven't even seen that old show. So I will work a little more of the Highlander mythology into the story so everyone can follow what is going on than I had originally intended. I think a few paragraphs scattered over the next few chapters is all that is need for everyone to get the gist of the concept and it shouldn't slow the tempo of the story too much. And since Annie needs to learn these things, too, it should be easy to work in. The next few chapters will be centered around Annie learning about Immortals, but then she will be thrust back into her 'normal' C.I.A. life - only with a few new abilities, which will also cause her new problems, too.

(If you are interested to learn a little more about Highlander and have ten minutes to spare, Wiki has a decent summary – just go there and search for 'Highlander The Series'.)

Personally, I think adventure stories with a lot of action are my favorites. Unfortunately, very few people in the world of fanfiction seem to write this style, so I have ended up writing my own to feed my addiction. I think this story is going to fast-paced and fun. Hopefully, you will enjoy the ride.

Have a great day,

Duane

P.S. I want to give a special shout out to Takada Saiko. Her story (well, I think she is a girl!) 'Hindsight is 2020' is what convinced me there were interesting stories to tell in the 'Covert Affairs' universe. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

We'll always have Paris

Chapter 3

Immortal? What did that mean?

Okay, I'm not stupid. Immortal means something that can't die. And that certainly seemed to apply to me since I had just been shot twice without it even leaving a mark. But how does one become immortal? And why hadn't I ever heard of it, if it was possible? And obviously from what Amanda had said about 'our kind', she was one, too. How many immortals were there?

I was brimming over with questions, but they had to be put on hold when my earpiece began to vibrate. Somehow through all the excitement of being shot and falling to the floor, it had stayed in place.

Quickly, I reached up and tapped the button that turned it on.

"This is Texas Ranger, over." Even though my radio was encrypted, protocol required the use of codenames for radio communications. And with the name Annie Walker, of course my codename would be Texas Ranger.

"This is the Emperor."

And by the same logic, Augustus Anderson would have to get the code name Emperor. Who picked these codenames? I wondered. They did sort of match Auggie's sense of humor, but I didn't think he had that much pull within the Firm. But then I would never bet against him either.

"You're twelve minutes overdue, Ranger," continued Auggie. "What's your status?"

As soon as I had started talking, Amanda had paused in her headlong race down the seven flights of stairs. Before Auggie finished speaking, she unceremoniously ripped the earpiece out and held it so we could both hear.

When Auggie paused, Amanda closed her hand tightly over the microphone end. "You can't go back to your people right now, it's too dangerous. You will have to come with me at least until I have a chance to explain about immortals."

I truly wanted to understand what was happening to me, but I also was committed to fulfilling my duty. And then I remembered I had just found what I was looking for when the guards had burst in and shot me. Damn, in all the excitement, I had forgotten to grab the papers or my camera when I had reawakened. Damn.

Amanda must have read something in my expression, as she quickly added, "I used your camera to take digital photos of the papers on the desk while I was waiting for you to revive and I had a minute to peruse them. There is nothing in them that can't wait until morning."

Suddenly, we both heard the door at the bottom, still three levels below us, slam open and more than one man begin charging up the stairs.

Amanda handed the earpiece back to me. "Make whatever excuse you have to, but we need to talk before you rejoin your people."

Then she vaulted over the railing and lithely dropped down the central shaft about which the stairs spiraled.

I glanced over the railing while I jammed the earpiece back into place. Amanda landed in a graceful roll three stories below me and instantly went on the attack. I had graduated top in my class in unarmed combat, but based on what I was seeing, I would last exactly two seconds against the other woman. She waded into the group of men still congregated around the bottom of the stairs with a fast, fluid fighting style I had never seen before.

After one long look, I began racing down the remaining stairs. I could hear intermittent 'phfft' sounds of silenced guns being fired and wondered how crazy I must be to be running straight towards the fight without any sort of weapon. But it seemed to be a night to do crazy things.

"Ah, Emperor, I've run into a bit of trouble. I'm going to have to get back to you," I said into the earpiece.

"Ranger, I'm sending in backup."

"Negative on the backup, Emperor. Repeat – negative. I can get clear, but I may have to lay low for a while. Don't create an incident. I'll contact you in one hour. Ranger, out."

I could hear Auggie protesting, but I hit the earpiece's off button and turned my attention ahead.

As I rounded the last corner and found myself half a flight of stairs up from the main floor exit, only one man remained on his feet between me and Amanda. The others, at least six, but they were difficult to count all tumbled together, were on the floor moaning or unconscious.

The last man was standing five steps below me. He was looking down and had his gun pointed in Amanda's direction. Immediately, I threw myself into a hard dive at his back. If I could survive being shot, I would surely survive tumbling down a flight of stairs.

As I collided with him, I aimed my clenched fists at his kidneys, the most vulnerable spot I could reach from this angle. He went crashing forward down the stairs and I managed to ride down on top of him. By the time we reached the bottom, he was groggy enough that a quick elbow strike to the neck took him down.

"Come on, we have to go," said Amanda, as I got to my feet and started climbing across the intervening bodies.

I saw a grimace of pain flash across Amanda's face. "Are you okay?"

She had been clasping her right bicep with her left hand, but now she pulled her hand free. "I caught one in the arm. I'll be fine."

Once her hand was out of the way, I saw what looked like miniature blue lightning bolts dancing around her wound. After about five seconds they began to fade and Amanda shook her right hand a couple of times, as though working out a cramp.

"Let's go," Amanda repeated, as she turned towards the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked, as I followed her out into the grand and fortunately deserted lobby.

"Hmm, I think we better go to Duncan's. It's possible we were caught on surveillance video, which might lead them straight to my place."

She had to be referring to Duncan MacLeod. Oh, I still might not remember Amanda's last name, but I certainly hadn't forgotten the name of her escort from the ball. Handsome and athletic were the first words that popped into my head when I thought of Duncan MacLeod. And better yet, he apparently must know about immortals, if he wasn't one himself.


	4. Chapter 4

We'll always have Paris

Chapter 4

Part 1

Amanda led the way out the front door of the lobby and took an immediate hard left.

"I've got a car about two blocks in the other direction," I said, as I almost had to break into a jog to keep up with the brisk pace the taller woman was setting. As we passed under a streetlight, I took a quick glance down at her feet. I guessed she was at least five-ten to my own five-five. And she was wearing surprisingly fashionable black boots that laced up to the knee and which had at least four inch heels. Next to my 'stealthy' black flats, the result was she towered over me by more than a head.

"So do I," she answered without breaking stride. "But now that the alarm has been raised, cars are too risky. We are going to have to use the Metro for at least the first bit. There is a station just a block ahead."

"I'm glad you're familiar with the layout around here," I said, as I realized she was right. If we were going to have time to discuss this whole 'Immortal' thing, we were going to have to get clear without picking up a tail from either Sarondi's people or my own. I knew Auggie would have people surveilling the area, as well as having my car lo-jacked.

Amanda shot me a sharp glance. "You don't have the area memorized and at least four exit routes identified? How do you expect to survive? Your life may depend on careful advanced planning."

"My life? I thought you said we're immortal." I asked still having barely a clue what was going on.

Amanda shook her head. "Oh, we can be killed, but it is very hard. Usually only another immortal can kill us."

"Why would another immortal want to kill us?"

"It's part of 'The Game'," Amanda said cryptically, as we reached the stairs leading down to the platform.

Fortunately, at 3 A.M. this station was relatively deserted. However, as soon as we were on the better lit stairs, Amanda looked me over critically.

"There's a ladies' room at the bottom of the stairs. The blood on your black outfit isn't too noticeable, but we need to clean your hands, throat, and face. We don't want to be noticed by anyone, particularly not by a cop."

When we reached the bottom, Amanda pointed off to the left and then held up a small key. "I have some things stashed in a locker here that will help alter our appearance. You go ahead and I'll catch up in two minutes. And you need to hurry; the next train will be here in eight minutes."

I moved in the indicated direction at a brisk walk, but couldn't help glancing back over my shoulder. If she had my camera and the photos I had come for, was she going to use this opportunity to ditch me? But there was the whole immortal thing and that she couldn't be faking. I knew I had been shot and I saw the blue lightning bolts on her arm as the bullet hole healed.

When I reached the door to the restroom, I forced myself to walk through without a backwards glance.

Part 2

Amanda returned, as she had promised, pulling a wheeled carry-on bag like everyone uses when flying. From it she produced a gray trench coat, a white sweater, and a couple of brightly colored scarves. Within forty-five seconds our completely black outfits were mostly concealed and her backpack was stowed in the bag.

Then after changing trains twice and a fifteen minute walk, we appeared to reach our destination. I was more than a little surprised when she led the way down a mostly hidden set of stairs at one end of a bridge which crossed the Seine. At the bottom, I discovered several old barges moored along the edge of the river almost in the shadow of Notre Dame. Well, the cathedral was actually located on an island out in the middle of the river, at least a hundred yards beyond the barges, but still I never expected a destination like this when Amanda had suggested going to Duncan's place.

Amanda quickly strode to the first barge, which was slightly larger than the other two, and marched straight up the gangway.

I was following a few steps behind her. About the time I set foot on the gangway, the dull throbbing I had been feeling in the back of my head ever since awakening suddenly seemed to double in intensity. It was such a sharp, unexpected sensation I actually missed my step and would have fallen into the gap between the barge and the shore, if I hadn't grabbed the railing in time. This had to be 'the buzz' Amanda had told me all immortals felt when they were close to another of their kind. I guess this answered the question about whether Duncan merely knew about immortals or actually was one.

"Duncan, it's Amanda," she called in a sharp whisper. "It's urgent that I come aboard."

More quickly then I was expecting, a door opened and Duncan leaned out.

"Amanda, do you know what time it is?"

Amanda ignored his remark. "Duncan, remember Annie from the party? She just experienced her first death."

Well, first death certainly seemed like an ominous way of phrasing it.

"Okay, come in," was all he said before stepping aside and holding the door open for us.

Amanda swept inside without another word. It wasn't until I got closer to him that I noticed the sword he was holding along his side so that it wasn't easily visible. At least I had an inkling about the swords now after a hushed conversation with Amanda on the subway.

And certainly the swords and the associated 'Game' sounded like the craziest part of the whole immortal thing. I mean here was a group of people who could apparently live forever and yet they went around killing each other with swords to achieve some equally cryptic 'quickening'. Obviously, it was going to take more than a rushed ten minute explanation on the subway before I was going to truly understand my newly altered life.

"Sorry," I said in a small voice, as I moved passed him. I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for, but for some reason I couldn't stop myself.

As I made my way down the stairs, I didn't know what to expect, but whatever I imagined, I wasn't ready for what I found. The interior of the barge was gorgeous. It immediately struck me as the home of a man with good taste and the necessary money to create a place that perfectly suited him. Most of the interior was one large space all done up in rich dark browns from the seating area at one end to the large oversized bed at the other. Beyond the seating area, I could see an almost hidden kitchen, or would it be called a galley here? And beyond the bed there would be just enough space for a comfortable bathroom.

And the place also seemed to smell just right – a combination of the river and leather and a subtle men's cologne. Why hadn't I ever met a man with a place like this?

Amanda had come to a stop in the middle of the sitting area. "Duncan, this is Annie Walker. Annie, this is Duncan MacLeod."

"It's nice to meet you again," I said while holding out my hand.

"Same here, although I wasn't expecting to see you so soon under these circumstances," Duncan said with a warm smile.

Amanda had also explained on the subway how immortals could also sense pre-Immortals, immortals who had yet to experience their first death. It wasn't quite the same as 'the buzz', but it was the reason she had struck up the conversation with me at the party at the Swiss Embassy.

Then with the minimum of pleasantries out of the way, his face turned serious, as he glanced towards Amanda. "Were there any witnesses?"

Amanda shrugged. "The two guards who shot her, but they didn't see her come back. And the lighting was poor. A little change to her appearance for a while and it should be okay."

"I'm sorry, but could someone explain what you're talking about?" I asked.

"If your death and in particular your revival were witnessed by mortals, you would have to give up your old life and move on to somewhere where you aren't known," explained Duncan without any appearance of being annoyed by our unexpected arrival.

"Ah, why?"

"The mortal world can't know of our existence. If they did, they would hunt us down to either eliminate us, or more likely in this modern era try to turn us into lab rats. Therefore one of the most important rules is if your immortal nature is compromised, you run. You can always come back in fifty or a hundred years when everyone who knew about you is dead."

In the forty-five minutes since I had awoken to learn I was immortal, that angle had never crossed my mind. I hadn't intended to shout it to the world, but I had been thinking about telling the two most important people in my life these days, my sister and Auggie. At one time my first choice would have been Ben, but that was no longer an option. And then I realized this was about the longest I had ever gone without thinking about him. He'd been gone two years, and it still takes being killed and brought back to life to go a whole hour without thinking about him. Was my head messed up, or what?

"You mean I can't tell anyone," I asked and recognized the annoyingly pleading tone to my voice.

Duncan shrugged. "Eventually, I think we all do. Usually it is someone you love and it just feels too hard to keep the secret bottled up inside. But trust me, it usually turns out bad. Most often the person ends up either running away in fear or if they stay with you, they ultimately come to resent you as they grow old while you stay forever young. So it is always your decision, but it is something you shouldn't decide in haste. Think long and hard about the potential consequences to you and the other person before revealing your secret."

"Duncan, you always manage to make immortality sound so depressing. How about you let us girls use your shower, as we are both covered with drying blood and then we can talk."

When Duncan nodded, Amanda grabbed my hand and headed passed the unmade bed. Of course, Duncan had probably been asleep when we made our unannounced appearance.

Amanda paused at the bathroom door. Leaning close she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Annie, you're in luck. Duncan has the best shower in Paris. Well, it is the absolute best when he shares it with you, but even without him it is still the best."

Then with a bawdy laugh, Amanda flung open the door and dragged me through.


	5. Chapter 5

We'll always have Paris

[Author's Note: There is a bit of nudity in this chapter. Nothing too graphic and I think with the use of judicious camera angles it could be shown on the TV show without raising any eyebrows. But I'd rather give people the opportunity to stop reading now rather than unexpectedly offend anyone.]

Chapter 5

The bathroom was gorgeous, but I should have expected it after having seen the rest of the barge. The shower, set into the back wall, had a glass front and double nozzles in each of the other three walls in addition to a large one in the ceiling. And it would be spacious for two and comfortable for a small orgy. And something about her told me Amanda had partaken in an orgy or two.

To one side of the shower was a small sauna and on the other a large walk-in closet. One wall was filled with a floor to ceiling mirror and the room was spacious enough to include a couple of ornate French chairs.

I pushed the bathroom door closed behind me as Amanda strode over and dropped into one of the chairs. Immediately she began working on the laces to her boots. I moved over to the other chair and started working on my much more pedestrian footwear.

"Ah, that feels good," said Amanda, as her second boot came off and she took a moment to wiggle her toes. "I love these boots, but they were never designed for a lot of running and fighting."

Then she stood up, pulled down on the zipper hidden in the back seam of her catsuit, and worked the body-hugging outfit down - steadily exposing more and more of her figure.

And her body was . . . was . . . was unbelievably amazing. Her breasts were large, at least 'C's and possibly 'D's, but they were firmer and higher than my much smaller 'B's. But I only stared at them for a couple of seconds as she continued to slither the bodysuit down further and further. Quickly a killer set of six-pack abs followed the breasts into view. And then came muscular thighs and calves with definition to die for. When she straightened back up wearing only a pair of high-cut black panties; her whole ripped body came into view. All I could think of was Linda Hamilton from T2. Well, Hamilton if she had about twenty more pounds of muscle and definition.

Amanda must have seen my stare as she did a quick pirouette, which brought her equally cut back and mostly exposed ass into view. The only thing marring her perfection was the dried blood covering much of her right bicep.

"Having an immortal body is grand. Perpetual zero body fat, no worries about cellulose on your ass or thighs, and you can eat anything and everything you want."

It took a moment to sink in and then I stared down at my own body still hidden under my C.I.A. issued bodysuit that didn't cling to me in nearly the same flattering manner as Amanda's had.

"We're all friends, here," said Amanda reverting back to the more sexy French. "Take it off and let's see your new, improved body."

Almost numbly I rose to my feet. Amanda turned and stared at my reflection in the mirror as though that gave me a hint more privacy. I turned to the mirror also and then watched my hand pull down my zipper, almost as though it belonged to someone else. Once it was down to my navel, I reached up and pulled my shoulders free and the outfit slid halfway down my chest as I worked my arms from the sleeves. Then once my arms were clear, I let it drop to my waist and stared in amazement at my reflection.

The only time I had had a visible six-pack before had been around the age of fourteen when I had been thin as a rail and obsessively practicing gymnastics. And then it had been more a case of having no body fat then having significant muscles. But now I suddenly had muscles to go along with the no body fat. Each row of muscles was clearly delineated, even through the thick, crusted blood from the gunshots. And not just the muscles of my abs stood out, no, my biceps, my shoulders, simply every muscle I could see was big, strong, and seemed to almost vibrate with power. Next my eyes moved to my breasts. Although they weren't more than hinted at behind my gray sports bra, they didn't seem noticeably bigger than before. However now that I was paying attention, they did suddenly feel as firm and taut as they had on my fifteenth birthday.

Quickly, almost forgetting Amanda was in the same room, I pushed the bodysuit down passed my hips until it slipped to the floor. My legs were just as ripped and muscular as the rest of my body. Most of my boyfriends had said my ass was my most outstanding feature and when I did a quick half turn, I could see through my matching gray panties that it, too, was higher and more firm than it had ever been - even factoring in an hour on the stair machine three times a week for the last eight years.

Then I more seriously looked at the dried blood coating my body. I wasn't at this point surprised to see it had soaked into the bottom edge of my bra and the first couple of inches of my panties. I was more surprised with the view of my back. It, too, was largely covered in blood. Had the bullets gone straight through my body with the exit points responsible for the blood I was seeing on my back? Or were the bullets still rattling around inside my body and the blood just the simple pooling that had occurred when I had fallen backwards in my death?

Amanda stepped up beside me and pulled me forward until I was standing only about three feet in front of the mirror still staring entranced at my own reflection.

Finally, I tore my eyes away for a moment and glanced into the reflection of Amanda's eyes. "How? Why?" And I wasn't even sure at that moment whether I was questioning how my body was suddenly so muscular or if I was questioning how it could have repaired itself without leaving a mark. When Amanda responded, she seemed to be addressing the former question.

"No one knows for sure. We all speculate on it from time to time. Apparently, we are intended to be the ultimate fighting machines. And our bodies are one part of it."

"What are the other parts?" I asked, as my gaze returned to my enhanced body like it was some new and wonderful toy.

"Hmm, pre-Immortals usually are given a hint of what they will someday be capable of. I suspect you have been given some combat training. How did you do?"

"Ah, I was first in my class of forty-five and most of them were bigger, very fit men."

I saw Amanda grin in my peripheral vision. "You'll be surprised how much better you are now. Even without any specialized training, you are now the equal to any sixth degree black belt. Plus, pound for pound, you are thirty percent stronger and thirty percent faster than the equivalent mortal. And you will be able to learn new techniques with little more than a demonstration. Of course, that's only in comparison to mortals. Every immortal has the same basic gifts and you will need to train like a fiend, if you want to become world class among immortals. And being world class among immortals is the best way to survive."

Obviously, here was another aspect of 'The Game' I needed to be aware of if I was going to survive in my new life.

"How about language skills?" asked Amanda making a jump I wasn't expecting.

"I speak seven languages. They seem to come pretty easy to me," I replied.

"Another hint of what would come once you became Immortal," said Amanda. "Now picking up languages will seem childishly easy. After merely hearing a few words, it will feel like you have known the language almost forever."

"Anything else?" I asked suddenly starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation and the changes I was experiencing.

Quietly, Amanda moved up behind me. As I felt her high breasts press into the back of my shoulders, she reached around me and playfully ran her fingers across my abs. I could feel her hands ripple up and down over each row of my new-found hard muscles, only sticking slightly in the coating of dried blood still clinging to my skin.

With a quick, small laugh, she said, "I think that's enough new information for now, the rest can wait. And since you are still enthralled with your new body, I think I'll grab the first shower. Unless, of course, you would like to join me?" The last was said with a smoldering look that could have set water on fire. Then she broke the look with another grin before planting a slow kiss on my neck. Finally, she turned and sauntered towards the shower with an extra roll to her hips, as she knew I must be watching.

'You are not into girls, Walker. You are not into girls,' I forcibly reminded myself, as I wondered if the taller woman had seriously been hitting on me.

[Author's Note: If you have read any of my other stuff, you know I never worry too much about coloring within pre-existing lines. I have made a few changes to the Highlander mythos that I thought were logical and would make the story more fun. Duane]


	6. Chapter 6

We'll always have Paris

Chapter 6

Part 1

As I shut off the oh-so-necessary and oh-so-refreshing shower and grabbed a large fluffy white towel to dry my hair, I could see Amanda rummaging around through the drawers over by the sink.

"Duncan, where did you stash the hair coloring supplies?" Amanda abruptly shouted.

Twenty seconds later, the door suddenly opened and I barely had time to get the towel around my body before Duncan stepped into the room. The fact Amanda was wearing a pale gold robe so sheer it accentuated her nudity rather than concealing it didn't seem to bother her, but then I suspected this wasn't the first time Duncan had seen her dressed like this or wearing even less.

And Duncan, too, was dressed a lot more casually. Gone were the black jeans and white tee he had been wearing when he hadn't known for certain who was at his door. In their place was just a pair of low slung, jade green silk lounging pants. His chest was bare and it was big and ripped, a male version of the body Amanda, and now I, sported. Every muscle was sharply defined and seemed to shout for my undivided attention. I always strive to be tightly in control, unless I am roaring drunk, but at the moment I felt only seconds away from running over there and attacking him. What I needed at that moment was another shower, an ice cold shower. But then thoughts of dropping my towel to step into the invigorating spray almost pushed me over the edge again. Down, Walker, down.

Duncan spared me one lingering look on entering the room, before he grinned and turned his attention to Amanda.

"I had to stash the hair dye in the secret compartment. For a while, the French police seemed to be searching the barge about once a week for one thing or the other. Why I had seventeen different shades of hair coloring dyes would have been awkward to explain."

Then he walked over to the floor to ceiling mirror, pressed several spots in the surrounding woodwork in sequence, and stood back as the whole mirror swung out about hinges at one end. I stepped closer and could see an angled compartment roughly two feet deep between the back of the mirror and the curved steel wall of the hull.

"Take your pick," he said with a gallant wave.

Amanda moved over and I stepped up behind her. At about eye level stood a neatly organized row of boxes conveniently arranged from the lightest blonde at the left to pitch black at the right.

"I haven't been a brunette in a few years," said Amanda pulling the next to the last rightmost box. Then she turned and stared at me for a moment. Turning back, she selected the fourth from the right box and held it up next to my face. Then she put it back and selected one a little further to the left. She held this one, which veered almost from brown to red, up by my face. "Yes, I think this one will do." She must have seen the less than thrilled expression on my face. "Oh, you will only need this color while you are in Paris on the off-chance you run into those two guards. Once you have gone home, you can revert back to being a blonde."

Then she turned to Duncan and held out her box. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Oh, you know me," Duncan responded with a wink towards me. "I'll do anything to get some time to play with your hair."

With Duncan standing barely three feet in front of me shirtless and Amanda beside him effectively naked, a crazy thought flashed through my mind. Were all the ripped and cut guys and gals you always saw on the covers of health and fitness magazines really immortals? Certainly their bodies were almost as good as the pair parading around in front of me.

Part 2

Amanda and I were sitting in the two chairs waiting for the coloring solution to work. I was just starting my second glass of what had to be the best wine in my life. It seemed to be hitting me unusually fast, as I was seriously toying with the idea of letting my towel 'accidentally' slip the next time Duncan looked in my direction. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Duncan chose that moment to pause in his efforts at cleaning the sink of the residue from the first phase of our dye jobs and started speaking.

"Okay, Amanda, what's the story? Where was Annie shot and what were YOU doing there when it happened?"

Amanda took a slow deliberate sip of her wine before answering. With anyone else it would have been to buy time to gather their thoughts. But after having been around 'semi-naked' Amanda for almost an hour, I realized it was part of some slow smoldering foreplay game she was playing with Duncan. And it briefly made me regret I had never allowed myself to be that free with any man in my life. Was it something that only came with long practice, I wondered.

"You must have sensed Sarondi at last night's party; Annie was watching him like a hawk the whole time I was talking to her."

Duncan slowly nodded, but then a dark expression began to cloud his handsome face. "Don't tell me you went to his place after the contents of his safe? He must have sensed us at the party, too, and would have been expecting you."

Amanda shrugged, which made her breasts jiggle through the sheer robe in the most enticing manner, but Duncan was so focused on watching her face, he didn't even seem to notice.

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," said Amanda. "Besides, he still owes me."

"It's your own damn fault you ended up in his harem," responded Duncan. Then he continued in a slightly lighter tone. "And how long were you trapped in the harem? And who got you out?"

"It was only eight years," said Amanda indignantly. "And I could have gotten myself out without your help. I was just biding my time so I wouldn't end up leaving empty-handed."

I couldn't stop myself from jumping into this conversation. "You were in a harem? For eight years?" There couldn't be 'real' harems anymore, I thought before adding, "How long ago was this?"

"Hmm, when was it, Duncan, the 1670's?" When Duncan nodded, she continued. "And it wasn't that bad. Back in those days Sarondi maintained a big harem of at least forty women and he was gone a lot fighting battles and on trade missions. I rarely had to 'perform' more than once a month."

I tried to get my head around Amanda being in a harem for eight years. It did at least help explain her casual attitude towards nudity. Then the other part of what she had said sank in. She was just blithely talking about events over three hundred thirty years in the past. How old was she?

"Amanda, how old are you?" I asked.

Amanda smiled. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get around to asking. And I'm impressed, almost two hours, which I think is a record of all the new immortals I have met."

She paused to take another sip of her wine. For a moment I didn't think she was going to answer, but then she quietly began to speak.

"I was born in the Abbey of Saint Anne, in Normandy not too far from the English Channel. I was found as an infant by a peasant family and raised as their daughter. Peasants didn't worry too much about dates back in those days, so I only know I was 'born' several years after the death of Charlemagne during the early years of the reign of his son, Louis the Pious. I have generally settled on the year 820 A.D. as a nice round number."

If I hadn't already been sitting, I think my knees would have given out in shock. It was one thing to philosophically talk about being immortal and living forever, but hearing her so nonchalantly talking about people like Charlemagne and Louis I, was something else entirely. I had minored in European history in college, (hmm, was that another aspect of being a pre-Immortal?) and then had to brush up on those things as part of my Smithsonian cover. So realizing Amanda had been almost two hundred fifty years old by the time of the Norman conquest of England was staggering.

"You're almost twelve hundred years old?" I gasped.

"Yep," Amanda grinned. "And I'm planning a big shindig for my birthday. I'll be sure to send you an invitation."

"I hate to interrupt," said Duncan. "But it is time we rinse your hair before it turns blue like some little old lady."

Amanda climbed out of her chair and pulled off the towel that had been wrapped around her head. As I sat there, again entranced by her impossible body, I seriously pondered for the first time what it would be like to spend a thousand years in my own newly enhanced body. And with a small smile, I realized the idea was surprisingly enticing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Part 1

I was just finishing combing out my newly auburn hair when I noticed how the bathroom seemed to be brighter. Glancing up, I took in the row of small porthole style windows along the inboard and outboard walls just below the ceiling. They were covered with relatively sheer white curtains to maintain the privacy of the room's occupants, but they were still able to let in a lot of light, like they were now doing. And that's when I remembered the time.

"Damn," I exclaimed. "I promised to contact my control hours ago."

Quickly I made my way over to the counter where my radio transceiver lay. The radio, my car keys, and my shoes were the only possessions I had brought with me that were still there. Duncan had placed my blood-soaked catsuit and underwear in a plastic bag and disposed of them in the garbage.

"Wait," commanded Amanda. "If you turn on your radio here, someone is going to trace it straight back and the same goes for using Duncan's phone."

"But I have been out of contact for over four hours. My people have got to be going crazy."

Duncan sighed. "If you intend to maintain your old life, I better drive you back to your hotel. It will be better if you deal with them face-to-face than from a distance. Amanda, why don't you see if you have anything that will fit her."

Duncan headed out of the bathroom while Amanda led me over to the large closet.

Once we were inside, she paused to look over my still towel clad body before turning to sort through the dresses hanging along one wall. I don't know how frequently she was Duncan's overnight guest, but at least half the closet space seemed to be taken up with women's clothing.

After almost a minute of flipping back and forth, she seemed to give up on the things hanging from the bar and moved to one of the built-in dressers. Quickly, she opened the first drawer and grabbed a pair of black panties. Then she moved to the second drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans and a white tank top. "Here, try this on; it is probably the best I can do given our different sizes."

She didn't offer a brassiere, which probably shouldn't have surprised me given how her large breasts had gone almost twelve hundred years without needing any support. And not that one of hers would have fit me anyway. So I dropped the towel and slipped on the panties and jeans. Amanda was taller and bigger than me, which left the jeans sort of baggy around the waist and I had to roll the pant legs up a couple of times, but 'beggars can't be choosers'.

The tank top seemed to fit like a second skin and I had to wonder how Amanda managed to wiggle into it. At least our height differences meant it was long enough to cover the important bits that might be exposed by the baggy jeans.

However when I stepped out of the closet and got a look at myself in the full length mirror, I actually blushed. The tank did fit me like a second skin. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I could see more than a hint of my new abs straight through it. And that didn't even address how it made my breasts look – I might as well have been naked on top.

Of course, it's not like I hadn't worn something like this before. I had paid my way through college by bartending. And once I discovered my tips doubled or tripled wearing a top like this, I had worn one most every night.

But that was then and this was now. I was trying to build a serious career with the C.I.A. In a place mostly populated by men, it meant I had to come across as professionally as possible – all day, every day. So as one part of my strategy, I was always conservatively and tastefully dressed. I wanted all my coworkers to think of me as a competent, serious professional first and as a hot, attractive female a distant second. Okay, guys are guys and I would be happy if the hot female was a close second. But it was important it was second.

However, if I showed up back at operations in this top, the first five minutes would undo the past three months of serious effort.

"I can't go back to my group looking like this," I said seriously.

"Why not? You look really hot," responded Amanda.

"I work with these people. I can't have them thinking I'm hot."

"Honey, you have to realize you are hotter now than you ever were as a mortal. You were pretty enough before, but now guys are really going to respond to you. You need to learn to enjoy it and use it to your advantage, or the next thousand years is going to be needlessly frustrating."

I looked back into the mirror and knew she was right. I had overnight gone from maybe an eight to at least an eleven. Hell, it might be my imagination, but when I stared at my face, I suddenly thought I saw changes there, too. Oh, nothing so dramatic as with the rest of my body, but perhaps I had lost a little fat from my cheeks, as my cheek bones seemed higher and more pronounced. But maybe that was my imagination. Either way, I was going to have to get used to the new me. Still. . .

"I think I need to work into it a little more slowly than jumping straight to this top," I answered.

Amanda nodded. "Okay, I think I can scrounge up a leather jacket to at least put a dimmer on the headlights," she said with a wink before moving back towards the closet.

I followed her gaze back to the mirror and realized it looked like I had a couple of Hersey's Kisses stuck under the white tank top. God, not only was it tight, it was almost translucent.

Then I almost rolled my eyes at Amanda's remark. She might be almost twelve hundred years old, but she could pass for twenty – certainly she looked at least five years younger than me. And that was the kind of remark I hadn't heard uttered since I was at least five years younger and back in college.

Part 2

As we exited the bathroom, Amanda picked up the hardcopies of the photos of the papers from Sarondi's desk that Duncan had printed and handed them to me. We had spent some time perusing them while the chemicals had been doing their magic on our hair. And having these photos would do a lot to help me get back in Joan's good graces, as they defined the time and the place for the exchange and even included an inventory of the items – and there was some very scary shit on the list. Even Duncan, who apparently had been a mercenary and in the military a number of times in his long life, had blanched at several of the items.

As I finished stuffing the printouts into the inside pocket of the jacket, we found Duncan once again fully dressed in the black jeans and white tee shirt. His gorgeous long, thick, dark hair was pulled back in a small pony-tail. And now another secret compartment stood open in the wall separating the central lounge from the galley. The interior was filled with at least twenty swords of every shape and description. They were all carefully mounted in a display that would have done any museum proud – even The Smithsonian.

Duncan waved me over. "It wouldn't be right to let you leave unarmed. Even if you aren't going to be very skilled without some practice, it would be wrong to send you out not even able to defend yourself. Take a minute and see which one calls to you the most."

I stared almost in wonder at the collection. There was everything from giant long swords used by armored medieval knights to cutlasses like something from an old Errol Flynn pirate movie to samurai swords to Arabian scimitars to others I couldn't even name. And as I stared at them I felt something stir within my body I had never felt before. The closest I can come to describing it is a reference I had seen several times to 'Viking Berserkers'. I had an almost overpowering urge to grab up one of the swords and begin to hack and slash and render (what does that word even mean?) everything in sight. It took an intense effort to force that urge back down.

I took a deep breath and then closed my eyes for fifteen seconds, as I listened to some inner voice. Then without even opening my eyes I took two steps forward, reached out, and pulled one of the swords from the wall. When I finally opened my eyes I found myself holding a sword I didn't recognize. It had a relatively long ten inch handle compared to the thirty inch blade which was fairly thick, maybe two inches wide. It curved slightly out towards the tip – more than I remembered for a cavalry officer's sword, but a lot less than a scimitar.

And then I took a better look at the handle. It was predominantly composed of mother-of-pearl. But it also had what looked like several large rubies at the juncture between the handle and the guard. And the pommel had an intricately designed pattern of inlaid gold and silver. The sword was as beautiful as it was deadly.

"Good choice," said Duncan with a nod of his head. "With its two-handed grip, it will let you bring more power to bear than something like a cutlass, which will help compensate for your smaller stature. And while it is not exactly the same size and shape as a Japanese katana, it's close enough that you should be able to use a Kendo club back home as a place where you can train. The bamboo shinai and wooden bokken they use have a similar grip and balance.

"This sword, a Germanic Kriegsmesser also referred to as a short sword or long-knife, was originally part of a matched set especially created for Archduke Sigismund, the nephew of the Holy Roman Empire, in honor of his ascending the throne of Further Austria in 1446. This sword was named, 'Little Dragon', and was primarily used when fighting on foot. 'Father Dragon' was the matching long sword used when fighting on horseback.

"The pair were stolen from the Hapsburg's summer residence in 1584. I acquired 'Little Dragon' after defeating the immortal, Fredrick von Klossenberg, in 1723. I have no idea whatever became of 'Father Dragon'.

"It must be extremely valuable," I said.

Duncan shrugged. "Yeah, it would probably fetch five hundred thousand on the open market, but it has been collecting dust for too many centuries. It is way past time for it to be put to its original purpose again."

I stared at the sword; almost afraid I would drop it and damage it. Duncan was simply going to give me a half million dollar sword? I had only known him for a few hours and he didn't owe me a thing.

"I . . . I can't take anything so valuable," I stuttered. "If you insist I need a sword, let me pick another one."

"It's okay, Annie," Duncan responded and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I would never sell swords to some collector, but I am happy to give them to friends. And, well, after four hundred years, I don't need the money."

I simply nodded my thanks as I took a small practice swing with the sword. 'Little Dragon' seemed to want to sing and felt like it was already a natural extension of my arm.

"How do you carry it?" I asked. Amanda's sword, which had definitely looked medieval French and seemed noticeably bigger and heavier in my memory than 'Little Dragon', had disappeared into her impossibly tight-fitting clothes with a seemingly simple flick of her wrist.

Duncan stepped close and whispered in my ear.

"That's it?" I asked incredulously.

He nodded. "Go ahead and try it."

I did what he said and as I flicked it back over my shoulder, I heard a 'snap' in my head and the weapon vanished. I waited a couple of seconds and then reversed the process. Instantly, 'Little Dragon' was back in my hand.

"That is so cool," I exclaimed, as I repeated the process a second time.

"Just one more perk of being immortal," said Amanda from where she lounged on the couch, still clad in only the extremely sheer pale gold robe.

"Don't let it go to your head," warned Duncan. "You have no training and any immortal you meet will probably have had a hundred victories."

After pushing the secret door closed, which once again hid the sword collection, Duncan moved over to the wooden end table beside the couch. He pulled open its single small drawer and extracted two items. The first was a cell phone and the second was a large folded piece of paper. He unfolded the paper and I saw it was a standard-looking tourist map of Paris.

Handing me the map, he said, "No one, even the people you work with should question why you are carrying a map of Paris. However what is important about this map is I have marked all the 'Holy Ground' locations around the city. I suggest you commit it to memory and always know where the closest 'Holy Ground' is. If you feel 'The Buzz' of another immortal, you should run for it as if your life depends on it, and it might.

I nodded, as I remembered Amanda's comments about 'Holy Ground' back on the Metro. Holy Ground was the one place where immortals couldn't fight. If I made it to holy ground, I would be safe as long as I stayed there.

"And here's one of those prepaid untraceable phones, I have its twin. Call me if you need help. Also, as soon as you can get away, call me and we'll do some training with the sword. I know a dojo I can usually use with thirty minutes' notice. Or I know a few abandoned buildings around town we can use, if you don't have time to get to the dojo."

I nodded my thanks. How scary would my life be right now, if I hadn't found such generous mentors? What if I had revived alone with no idea what had happened or what I was supposed to do? Would it have ultimately gotten me or my friends killed?

"And a final word of advice. Try not to come within fifty feet of Sarondi. If you do, he will sense you and no way are you ready to cross swords with him."

"Oh, it might not be that bad," interjected Amanda with an evil grin. "I hear he still has a harem hidden deep in the mountains north of Al-Kirå."

I saw the tip of 'Little Dragon' begin to waver as my hands shook. Eight years in a harem sounded almost scarier than a swordfight.

[Author's Note: Just wanted to give a special shout out to KJA. I sent him an early draft of the first nine chapters and he provided a number of interesting suggestions – in particular with regards to Annie's sword. I originally had it being a Japanese katana, but he reminded me how everybody does this and sent me several links to alternate choices. Thank you, Karl!]


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Duncan pulled the car over to the curb and killed the engine. I was a little surprised that a guy, who was so rich he would give away a half million dollar sword, would drive a battered thirty-year-old Citroen. He had mentioned during the drive about the classic 1964 T-bird convertible he kept at his place in the States, so I guess I could forgive the silly little French car.

He began to open his door and I shot him a quizzical stare.

"I would feel better escorting you to your car, if we are really within a couple of blocks of Sarondi's place," he said in reply.

Once we had left the barge, I had decided it might be a good idea to get my car, rather than having Duncan leave me at the hotel. Once my car started moving, it would give Auggie a 'head's up' that I was on my way and hopefully give things time to cool down a little compared to just walking up to the door.

I was going to protest Duncan's concern, but decided to just let him escort me. I wouldn't mind the company and he was fun to talk to, particularly after getting away from the 'naked Amanda' factor. And he had admitted Amanda could be a handful and usually after a few hot, tempestuous weeks or months, they would start to get on each other's nerves and would drift apart for a few years or decades. I was still trying to comprehend a life where immortals talked as casually about decades of separation as everyone else did of months.

"Okay," I said in intentionally bad French while batting my eyes in a semi-flirtatious manner. "I would never turn down a walk with a gorgeous man."

Duncan laughed in a relaxed manner. "Don't pick up too many bad habits from Amanda, please."

We climbed out of the car and headed down the sidewalk. It was a little before 7 A.M., the air still had a crisp edge that would doubtlessly be gone by mid-day and replaced with the sweltering summer heat so typical of Paris in August. But for the moment I enjoyed the coolness as I surveyed the quiet street. There was a small café visible about a block and a half ahead that had a few customers, but otherwise the street was deserted.

Duncan had parked around the corner from where my car was located, or at least where I thought I had left it, but between the meandering streets and all the life-altering revelations I had experienced since last seeing the rental, I could only hope I was in the right place.

So I was very pleased when we rounded the corner and I spotted the little gray Mercedes half a block ahead. Or at least I was pleased until three large men stepped out of the shelter of a doorway when we were still thirty feet from the car.

"Sarondi's men, I would wager," said Duncan, as he glanced over his shoulder.

I followed his gaze and saw how two more men had materialized behind us to cut off our line of retreat.

"Run, surrender, or fight?" Duncan asked in a surprisingly light tone.

Visions of Amanda's harem comment flashed back through my mind.

"Fight," I said and as if by magic, I could feel my body begin to ramp up until every muscle seemed to vibrate.

"Good choice," Duncan responded, as he paused to allow the opponents to get closer.

Then with a quick nod indicating the two behind us were mine, he sprang forward on the attack.

I turned back the other way and was suddenly glad if I only got to keep one article of clothing from the night before, it had been my shoes. I had had some training to fight in high heels, but it would have been a lot more awkward, particularly if I had been trying to do it in a pair of Amanda's shoes. Jeans a couple of sizes too big were survivable, but her shoes had to be at least three or four sizes larger, too. And that would have been at best, inconvenient, and at worst, downright dangerous.

I felt a grin spread across my face and wondered what my two opponents would make of it. Would they think it meant I was crazy and looking forward to going up against them or would they think I was almost laughing at the incongruity of being about to enter a fight and all I was thinking about was shoes? God, sometimes I am such a girl!

They had obviously been told it was okay to rough us up, as the first guy came in swinging. But then if they were part of the same crew I had run into the previous night who seemed to go by the motto, 'shoot first and ask questions later', it shouldn't have been unexpected.

I ducked under the first blow and then seemingly of its own volition, my body did an impossibly fast half spin before my left leg shot out and delivered a hammer blow to the first guy's right knee. His leg twisted and the knee joint appeared to be trying to work backwards. Instantly, he crashed to the ground with a howl of pain.

Two seconds and one opponent was already down. I felt a new grin forming, but it was quickly swept away by a hard right cross from the second guy. He was so big and strong; the blow lifted me completely off my feet and sent me careening back in Duncan's direction.

But again my body seemed to be functioning on autopilot and it seemed to be doing better on autopilot then when I was trying to fight on my own. As I flipped over backwards and my face was headed towards the ground, my hands shot out and somehow my fall was turned into a backflip followed by a modified cartwheel. When I crashed to a halt, I had literally crashed into one of Duncan's opponents, knocking him to the ground beneath me.

"Having fun?" I asked in French before delivering a sharp palm strike to his nose. Blood splattered all over my hands and front. Then I realized at least some of the blood was coming from my mouth from the blow I had received from the other guy. I didn't know if it was adrenaline or another aspect of my immortal nature, but I wasn't feeling any pain and quickly rolled back to my feet.

I had taken down two of the guys, the second one more or less by accident. Duncan had taken down one and was dealing with another. The one who had landed the blow to my face seemed to have realized the way the fight was going and was hightailing it for the hills. I turned to assist Duncan with the last opponent, but was just in time to see Duncan deliver a roundhouse kick with his heavy boot. I cringed as I heard the jaw shatter.

The street was suddenly quiet except for the moaning of the four downed men.

"I'm a little disappointed," said Duncan as he stepped closer and pulled an old-fashioned white handkerchief from his pocket. "In the old days, Sarondi was usually able to recruit better quality thugs."

I accepted the cloth and dabbed at my mouth which elicited a small wince. It was starting to sting a little now that the excitement was wearing off.

Then I glanced around again at the four men lying on the ground moaning. The whole fight had lasted less than ten seconds and it reminded me of something Bob Mayfield, one of the unarmed combat instructors at the Farm, had said. He had said 'real world' fights were seldom like those in the movies or on TV. Usually one person was measurably better than the other whether it was due to speed, strength, or skill. And the better person typically took his opponent out fast, generally in a single pass. That certainly had been the case in this fight.

Then Duncan spoke again and pulled my attention back to the present.

"You do seem to attract trouble," Duncan continued with a grin. "I think I better stick with you until you get back to your hotel."

I just nodded as I fished my keys out of my pocket. If Duncan wanted to ride along I wasn't going to object. After only fighting for a few seconds, I knew my body was faster, tougher, and stronger than it had been before I had become Immortal. But I wasn't sure if I would have won against the five men if I had been alone.

So, as I slid behind the wheel, I looked over at Duncan and asked a question that had been in the back of my mind almost since I had first awakened back in Sarondi's apartment.

"Duncan, when I first revived last night, Amanda made a comment about 'guns not being for our kind'. What exactly did she mean?"

Duncan finished fastening his seatbelt before responding. For a moment I wondered why he bothered since he was immortal, but then I remembered the slowly fading pain in my face and jaw from where the guy had hit me. I guess using a seatbelt might make a crash less painful even if you would survive either way. I glanced down and realized I had already fastened mine out of force of habit.

"She actually said that?" asked Duncan with almost a hint of surprise on his face. "Well, I guess it is a piece of philosophy I have been trying to convince her was important. Or knowing Amanda, who likes to live on the reckless edge, it is probably more of a challenge than an actual commitment."

Duncan stared out the window a minute before continuing. "It's not like we can't use guns or anything. Hell, I've used a gun more times than I can count – particularly when I have been serving in one military force or another. But as I get older, using guns against mortals just doesn't seem right. I mean it hardly seems fair to use a weapon against them that is lethal to them, but only an annoyance to us.

"But you should hone your proficiency with guns just like you would any other weapon. I have met immortals who think it is perfectly okay to gun down their opponent and then take their head while they are recovering from their wounds. And certainly, I have come across humans who are so vile; I hate to sully my sword with their deaths. Guns have their place, but just be careful. It is easy to slip into a way of thinking where mortals are all lower than us and therefore killing them doesn't matter. And that's the first step down the slippery slope to madness."

There was a lot of food for thought in his words. I hadn't really had time to think about a lot of the aspects of immortality. But now that he brought it up, I could see how it wouldn't be hard to start thinking of yourself as being superior to mere mortals.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I checked that the zipper on my jacket was pulled all the way up, as I approached the final turn for my hotel, Le Meridien Etoile, across the street from the Paris Convention Center and about six blocks from the Arch de Triumph. When I had walked up to the car after the fight and saw my reflection in the heavily tinted window, I realized how much blood had been splattered onto the white tank top. I had been worried about the attention the tight, thin top was going to attract from the guys and now it was even more blatantly going to draw the eye. At least the cut lip and bruise to the side of my face had completely faded during the thirty minute drive to the hotel. Oh, it wasn't that far from Sarondi's place and I could have easily made it in fifteen minutes, but I felt it had been prudent to use a little of my evasive driver's training to identify and/or lose any potential tails.

"You know," remarked Duncan at my action. "If you had asked, I could have loaned you one of my tee shirts. Amanda likes to play games with people's heads. Seeing how far she could push you with the clothing thing is something I've seen her do before."

"Thanks for telling me, now," I said with a touch of exasperation in my voice. Then I realized it wasn't really that big of a deal or at least not for the reasons Duncan was probably thinking.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. The clothes would generally not be that big of a deal. Hell, I have worn plenty of equally racy tops in my day. No, I'm just annoyed at the moment because of my job. I work in a place that is still very much a 'good ole boy's club'. To get ahead I have to be smarter, tougher, simply better than the guys. And a part of that is the image of professionalism I need to project, which is why I'm sort of annoyed that Amanda seemed intent on making me look sexier than I want at the moment."

Duncan sighed. "You have to understand Amanda comes from a very different world than you. Hell, so do I. It was over fifty years after my first death before I learned to read. I know the same is true for Amanda.

"And Amanda's first mentor, the one who found her after her first death, kept her cloistered on Holy Ground for almost five hundred years. When Amanda finally broke away from her, a serious rebellious streak was part of the result and I think it still affects her today. Everyone carries around a lot of baggage from their past, but few of them have accumulated a thousand years' worth. I have come across a lot of old immortals and as the modern world rapidly changes, many of them have a tough time adapting. In a way you are the lucky one for having gotten to spend your pre-immortal years in these times. You will have a better mindset then most of us."

I glanced over at him and then remembered the anachronistic white handkerchief still lying in my lap. Who used handkerchiefs anymore? Duncan with his handkerchiefs and weird sense of chivalry really was from a different era.

And then I realized I knew a little about Amanda's age and origins, but almost nothing about Duncan.

"So what's your story, Duncan? Have you always been the boy scout?"

"Hardly a boy scout," Duncan answered. "I was born in 1592 and was raised in Glenfinnan, Scotland, as the son of the chief of the MacLeod clan. Or at least I was until I died and came back. Then I was driven out for consorting with witches or other dark, evil forces."

If Duncan had spent his first life training to take responsibility for his clan, it would explain a lot about his personality, too.

I mused on the topic for the final minute before we reached the turn in for the hotel. I found three cars already in line for the valet parking.

As I sat there waiting my turn to hand over my car, I mentally switched topics and began contemplating if I could or should try to duck up to my room for a quick shower and change of clothes before reporting in. But then I spotted Jai Wilcox and Devon Atwater hanging around the front entrance. I was going to have to deal with the mission first.

"Time for me to get out, I think," said Duncan, as he had obviously spotted my fellow agents, too. "Call me about training or if you need some 'real' backup."

Then he was out the door and rapidly disappearing into the nearby foot traffic. For a big, extremely well-built man, Duncan could be amazingly lithe and stealthy. For a moment I wondered if he had ever trained with Ninjas. Then remembering the few hints he had divulged while we had been working on my hair, I decided it might have been the other way around – he had probably taught the Ninjas a thing or two.

I didn't think Jai or Devon had spotted me yet or, thankfully, my mysterious passenger. So I tried to stay calm as I edged the car closer to the front of the line.

Finally, I reached the valet attendant, put the car into park, and climbed out. The valet stub was barely in my hand when Jai materialized at my side.

"Where have you been?" he asked brusquely, as he grabbed my elbow and steered me towards the hotel's front door.

"Doing my job," I retorted trying to put thoughts of Immortals out of my head. I needed to focus on the current situation and not say anything to give away that my life had twisted 180 degrees in the few hours I had been off the grid. "Let's save the details until we get inside, so I only have to go through them once."

Jai just gave a small nod as we crossed the wide, ultra-modern lobby. Our temporary field ops center was set up in one of the conference rooms, and Jai headed straight in that direction.

The C.I.A. maintained three permanent field offices in the greater Paris metro area, but they were all known by the opposition and were only used for mundane, non-covert operations. In hopes of better anonymity, field ops rotated between a number of the larger hotels. For this operation, we were 'officially' a pool of video journalists covering the semi-annual 'Haute Couture' fashion shows for the American entertainment channels. It nicely explained all the computers and other electronic gear we had set up in the conference room. Of course, it would have been fun if that assignment had been real and I could have spent a day at one of the shows. I mean, what girl hasn't fantasized about attending Paris Fashion Week? And now, if the weapons smuggling operations hadn't been altered in the last six hours, I might get my chance later today.

Jai led the way straight to the conference room. Devon, who had been following about fifteen paces behind, peeled off and took a position where he could monitor the room's entrance. I saw another of our agents also posted outside the room, as Jai paused to knock twice on the door before pushing me through.

Joan swung around as soon as the door opened. I had been working for her for only a couple of months and still had a hard time reading her expressions. At this moment, it appeared to be a combination of relieve with at least a tint of anger.

"Are you okay?" she asked bluntly.

I nodded and then decided I needed to get straight to business. It should help deflect some of her questions although when the blood soaking my shirt came into view, it wouldn't deflect them all.

"I got the evidence we needed," I said, as I pulled down the jacket's zipper to access the inner pocket. "If the plans haven't changed, the exchange is going down here, in Paris, at noon today."

"Today?" asked Joan, as she pulled the pages from my hand. If she noticed the condition of my top, she decided it wasn't the priority at the moment.

But Jai wasn't that focused on the mission. Or maybe he simply cared more about me than Joan did.

"Annie, what the hell happened to you?"

"Well, I almost got caught last night by Sarondi's guards and my clothes were pretty much of a mess by the time I got clear. Since they were swarming the halls, elevators, and stairs, I broke into another apartment. Fortunately, the occupants were gone. Some of the guards were carrying electronic gear and I was afraid they could track me if I used my radio. And I didn't think I could risk calling on an open landline either. So I just went to ground. Luckily, the woman who owned the apartment was only a little larger than me, so I borrowed some clothes and used some of her hair dye."

"That doesn't explain this blood. It looks damn fresh," Jai said in response.

So far at least he was being strictly business; although his eyes did stray for a moment to my prominently displayed nipples. Therefore I tried to keep my response equally professional.

"I thought I had gotten clear, but a couple of Sarondi's goons jumped me right by my car."

"Are you, okay?" Jai asked and there was a lot more concern in his tone than in Joan's earlier similar question.

"I'm here aren't I," I said a little more sharply than was absolutely necessary. Sometimes Jai's manner seemed to drift between haughty womanizer and swarmy 'brown noser', both of which I detested. The conversation felt like it was headed in one of those directions and I wanted to shut it down quick. We got along so much better when things were strictly professional.

Joan must have glanced up from the papers she had been reading. "Are you hurt, Annie?"

"I'm fine," I reiterated. "Most of the blood belongs to the other guys. But I wouldn't mind a shower and a change of clothes."

"Okay," said Joan with a nod of her head. "But first, give me your synopsis of these papers, as you must have had time to study them."

I nodded in turn and walked over to the conference table. The French didn't really seem to grasp the concept of American style air-conditioning and with all the tech gear in the room throwing off kilowatts of heat, it was damn hot. Without even thinking about it, I stripped off my heavy, borrowed leather jacket. Or I didn't think about it until I heard a male gasp behind me and then the sound of a coffee cup shattering on the floor. You would think they had never seen a girl with a ripped, vee-shaped back before. Jeez.

However I did find myself automatically folding my arms across my chest, as I slid into one of the chairs. But then I remembered 'the list' and forced myself to focus on business.

"Sarondi is here to buy weapons from the Russian Mafia. I'm not certain if this is a list of items he is buying or merely a shopping list of things he would like to get his hands on, but take a look at items 14 and 19 on page three."

Joan had taken a seat at the table directly across from me and now flipped the stapled package over to the third page. She quickly ran her finger down the list and then abruptly her finger froze. She stared at the page for at least twenty seconds and appeared to be getting paler all the time. Finally, she looked up and addressed the room.

"People, item fourteen is six canisters each containing half a liter of the Russian binary nerve gas, Novichok A232. For any of you who haven't gone through the chemical warfare course recently, let me refresh your memory. 200 milliliters of this agent has the capability of killing up to 10,000 people and this list is talking about a total of three liters. It is a weapon that is small, easy to transport, and difficult to detect. If this makes it into the States, it will make 9/11 look like a good day."

She paused to glance over at Auggie, who was sitting at a scaled-down, makeshift version of his office back at Langley. "Auggie, I think there is a counter-agent to this toxin. Get on the horn to Langley and find out where we have some stockpiled over here. I want everyone in this room inoculated in the next," she paused to glance at the clock mounted on the wall, "three hours."

Then she looked back down at the paper and moved her finger down a couple of places on the list. "Item nineteen is two RA-115s suitcase nukes."

Joan paused to let this sink in and then continued with more than a trace of gallows humor. "Actually, suitcase nuke is a bit of a stretch. They are roughly fourteen by fourteen by thirty inches and weigh approximately seventy-five pounds. They will fit in an oversized rucksack, but are more typically carried in military-style footlockers. However make no mistake; they still pack a three kiloton wallop, which will destroy everything within a half-mile radius, if they are optimally located."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Joan had a grim, but determined expression on her face when she turned back to me.

"Annie, what does it say about the exchange?"

I pulled myself up a little straighter in the seat before responding, but kept my arms folded across my chest.

"The deal was scheduled to go down at the Bouchra Jarrar show at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs at noon. However after the ruckus I caused at Sarondi's home last night, I may have buggered the deal."

"Who or what is Bouchra Jarrar?" asked one of the men standing behind me. And glancing around, I saw a lot more than one man shrugging his shoulders. Men!

"Bouchra Jarrar is one of the leading Parisian fashion designers. You know, Fashion Week? Our cover story? Don't you guys even read the cover brief?"

Several of the men were looking sheepishly away by the end of my comments, but Joan was obviously still focused on the main issue.

"Maybe the situation isn't lost yet," Joan said slowly. "Often these deals are set up days or weeks in advance. Sarondi may know there's a leak and a problem, but he may not have any way of contacting the Russians. They may still show up for the exchange."

Joan paused and looked over at Auggie but he was on the phone. "Can someone get the location of this fashion show up on the big screen, please?"

Several of the other techs started typing furiously on their keyboards. In less than fifteen seconds a Google Map of Paris was on the display. A standard red Google balloon figure was stuck in a patch of green next to the river. As the image zoomed in, one of the techs read from his display.

"The Musée des Arts Décoratifs is part of the Louvre complex and occupies the northeast portion of the former palace. It has a variety of conference rooms and banquet facilities. The largest room, where the runway show is being held, is called The Nave, but the fashion show takes over most of the facility for the day. Between costumers, caters, and video crews," and here the man paused to grin and it had to be related to my reminder of our cover story. "A lot of outside gear is brought into the building. It is certainly possible the 'packages' could be brought in with some of the other items and then smuggled out again after the show."

I think the man would have continued to drone on, but Auggie cut him off.

"Joan, the nearest supply of the counter-agent to the nerve gas is at Spangdahlem Air Force Base near Trier, Germany. They have 250 doses and a plane with 80 of them will be airborne in ten minutes. They should be on the ground at de Gaulle in an hour. I would like to dispatch Owens and Whittier to meet the plane."

Joan nodded to the two agents, "Go."

"What about notifying the local authorities?" asked Jai.

"With potentially nerve gas AND nukes at the party, I need to push this up the line, and quickly, before any decisions can be made about bringing in the French," responded Joan.

"Joan," said Auggie. "It's been a long night and it looks to be an intense day. I could use a break and a shower."

I looked over at Auggie and saw the dark rings under his vacant eyes. He had obviously been up all night worrying about my situation. I had been up all night, too, but I wasn't feeling as worn out as Auggie looked. Perhaps this was going to be another side benefit of my newborn immortality.

"You're right. Everyone is going to need to be at their best and I need to make some phone calls. White and Cortez, man the phones and computers; everyone else take a break and be back here in forty-five minutes."

I stood up from the table and started to stretch before remembering my tight, thin, blood splattered tank top. Quickly, I put my arms down and slid back into the leather jacket. It was going to be good to get another shower and then get back into my own, more conservative clothes.

Moving away from the table, I walked over to where Auggie was unfolding his cane. "Can I escort you to your room?"

Auggie nodded. "I'm so glad you made it back safe, Ranger. When you missed your second check-in by hours, I was really getting afraid something bad had happened."

"What? Me? We've been working together for several months, Emperor. Surely you must have learned by now that I'm bullet-proof."

I felt a big grin spreading across my face at the sudden truth behind my offhanded remark.

We cleared the door to the conference room and people began to scatter in different directions. We walked in silence for another twenty seconds before Auggie spoke.

"Okay, give, Annie, what's with the shit-eating grin?"

I glanced over at my current best friend and his blind eyes appeared to be staring vacantly into the distance. But obviously, he knew me well enough to sense things just from my words and other subtle clues any normal guy would miss.

Then I looked over at him again. When I had first met him, I thought he was merely coping with a bad situation and I had felt the need to befriend him. But it wasn't until recently that I had become aware that Auggie was capable of more than coping. No, even blind he had every intention of getting back into field work. And he played the C.I.A.'s 'game' just as hard and seriously as Duncan and Amanda played the Immortals' 'game'. I had been utterly shocked when I had found out he had seduced the reporter, Liza Hearn, in an attempt to uncover her source within the Firm. And, by extension, I had begun to wonder when it would be my turn to have to use my body in the name of a mission or to further my career. And I had to further wonder if I would be capable of doing it.

"Am not!" I exclaimed in respond to his question. "And if I was grinning, you couldn't possibly know it."

"Okay, whatever you say, Annie. But let me just ask this – are you going to have trouble with your next poly?"

Damn, damn, damn. I hadn't even thought about the regular polygraph tests the Firm makes all the field agents take. Hell, I was lucky Joan hadn't required one the minute I walked through the door after being incommunicado for five hours in the middle of the mission. My news had been so startling and so time sensitive; it may have slipped her mind. But we're talking nerve gas and nukes, if she even suspected I had been turned and was leading them in a wrong direction she would be all over me in a minute.

The big question now was whether I could pass a polygraph. It's not like they were going to asked, 'Yes or no, are you immortal?' I think my loyalties still were with the Firm and the United States, but how quickly would thoughts of immortality corrupt my readings? I mean, if I was lucky, I could still be around in a thousand years. Could the same be said about the C.I.A. or even the United States? When would I start thinking in terms of my long term future rather than those of transitory organizations and when would it begin to show in my responses?

Suddenly, immortality looked like it might have a bigger impact on my near-term career than I had yet suspected. But those thoughts and worries were going to have to wait until this current mission was over. A lot of people could die if this weapons exchange was successful. And hell, with my new gifts I might survive a nerve gas attack, but I doubted even my body could cope with a nuclear blast.

"I hope I can, Auggie, but if I can't, it will have nothing to do with my loyalty to my friends or my job."

He nodded and I knew he had struggled with his own issues in the past. And if they tested him today, I wondered if his situation with Hearn would trip him up.

Suddenly, I stopped and pulled Auggie to a halt. I glanced around, but I didn't recognize anyone in the vicinity. Then I leaned close and whispered in his ear.

"We have to see this mission through, the stakes are too high. But afterwards, I think we need to re-evaluate what working here is doing to our lives. I'm not sure I'm happy with what I see you becoming, or some of the things I am starting to do. Maybe we should just walk away."

Then I leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his lips. When I pulled back, Auggie had this startled expression on his face and his blind eyes seemed to be boring straight into me. And even with all that, I still wasn't sure who was the more startled of the two of us. I had no idea why I had just kissed him and it scared me more than a little.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was eleven forty-five and the fashion show had been going for fifteen minutes. Our team was scattered all around the show and the various backstage and equipment storage areas on the lookout for anything suspicious. I was backstage in the changing area, which made sense since I was one of the few women on the team.

What made less sense was that Jai was back here with me. And not just Jai but several other guys, too. Jai was posing as a journalist for one of the entertainment shows on E! and the others were passing as his cameraman and sound guy. He was waving his mike around pretending to interview the models and assuring everyone within listening range that Americans like a little titillation in their coverage, but all the naughty bits would be blurred out before broadcast.

None of the models seemed to care that there were a bunch of guys hanging around while they were stripped down to just their thong underwear. It made me wonder if I had overreacted to the guys seeing me in my blood soaked tank top. But then I was striving for a professional relationship with these guys and didn't want their tongues hanging out every time I walked into the room like was happening right now with these girls. I just hoped the guys would remember we were here on an important mission when the time came.

And now that I was seeing the models up close, I wasn't too impressed. Oh, they had beautiful faces and tall, skinny bodies, but where was the muscle tone? It was amazing how quickly I had become jaded after seeing Amanda's body. If she had been here and also stripped down to a thong, I doubt Jai and his guys would give these 'supermodels' a second glance. Was it just the ultrafit bodies Immortals possessed or was there some different animal magnetism thing that sets them, ah, us, apart?

There was so much about Immortals that Amanda and Duncan hadn't yet explained. And I suddenly realized I was just as bad as the guys. They were letting themselves be distracted by the models and I was letting myself be distracted by my thoughts about Immortals.

Of course, letting myself be distracted by thoughts of Immortals seemed safer than the other distracting topic that was also dancing around near the front of my thoughts – the kiss with Auggie. No, the kiss I had planted on Auggie.

At the time it had seemed utterly spontaneous. One second I was talking about quitting the Firm and the next I am suddenly kissing him. Was it the sudden mention of inevitable polygraph tests? Was it the sudden realization my new immortal nature might make a 'normal' job, and working at the C.I.A. would barely qualify as 'normal', impossible? Was it the thought of nukes that suddenly made me want to find a secluded piece of Holy Ground and disappear with my best friend for a few years? Was it as simple as a delayed reaction from discovering Auggie was sleeping with the reporter, when I had subconsciously wished it had been me?

I don't know what caused me to kiss him, but as I had gotten us moving again towards the hotel's elevators, I had realized I didn't really regret it. I hadn't been certain how far or how fast I wanted things to move forward, so I had demurely parted ways with him at the entrance to his room. I had almost convinced myself it was because he looked so wiped out and needed to rest, but deep down it was only an excuse to delay things while I tried to figure out how best to proceed.

Less than six hours earlier I had been shot and killed only to awaken and discover I was immortal. Was this the right time to get romantically involved with Auggie when I had barely a clue as to where my new life would take me? And more importantly, was Auggie interested in taking our relationship to the next level?

I was almost glad when my thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the man in question in my earpiece.

"I have people speaking Russian, here," I heard Auggie's voice announce. He was obviously whispering straight into his mike, but I had had to turn the volume on my earpiece all the way up to hear anything. All the giant, oversized speakers were out front and the sound system had to be blaring music at 120 decibels. Even back here the noise was deafening.

Since Auggie was one of only four people on this particular team, including myself, who spoke Russian, even he had been allowed into the field for this urgent, time-critical situation. However where I thought we were most lacking was Arabic speakers. We had had no firm intel of who the players were in this exchange before we left Langley, so in the end only two guys spoke that language. In the hectic rush to pull the op together and get everyone in place in less than three hours, I had completely forgotten, until it was too late, Amanda's comment that immortals could pick up a language by only hearing a few words. I don't know if it was a big exaggeration on her part, but if I had thought of it, I would have chatted up Andreeva or Porter before we reached the show just on the off chance Amanda hadn't been exaggerating. But it was too late to worry about that now.

The last I had heard, Auggie was sitting out front in the show's audience with Joan. I don't know if she didn't trust him to wander around alone in some unknown building, or if she didn't want to tie up another asset escorting him, or if she had some sixth sense that something was going to happen out there.

"I have Sarondi entering the audience and he has four bodyguard types with him," announced Joan's voice quietly. "He is making his way over to the Russians sitting to our left."

Damn, I never expected the deal would go down out front. Oh, I didn't think they were going to plop cases full of weapons and cash down on the actual runway and do an inventory, but either Sarondi was here to postpone the deal because of my interference or he was crazy enough to go through with it even after my obvious break-in to his home ten hours earlier. But then he was an old immortal like Amanda and Duncan, perhaps he didn't intimidate easily. Either way, Joan and Auggie were in the middle of things and they had no idea about Sarondi's whole 'shoot first' policy. And if the situation got out of control, Sarondi might not care if it turned into a firefight, it's not like he could be permanently hurt by mere bullets, but my friends could. And I was stuck back here.

I suddenly realized I needed to get out front to protect my friends if things went wrong. Unfortunately, using this museum for the show was absolutely crazy from a security standpoint and from a practical standpoint, too. 'The Nave' was so named because it was laid out just like a cathedral, long and narrow, which was perfect for a runway with intimate seating along both sides. But the temporary wall they had built as a backdrop for the runway completely blocked access from the rear to the front except through the runway itself. The only other route required completely exiting the building and circling around to enter the audience area from the far end. It was at least a ten minute walk, perhaps five at a run, but if Sarondi had men stationed outside, like he surely would, they would doubtlessly contact Sarondi or his bodyguards, if people were suddenly running outside the building. I couldn't get around via that route fast enough if trouble started out front and I couldn't stand helplessly back here with my friends in potential danger.

That left only one route – down the runway.

I glanced down and took in my attire. I was wearing the same gray slacks and blazer, and white button-down blouse I would wear into the office – conservative and businesslike. No way could I walk out onto the runway in these clothes without making a stir. No, if I was going to use that entrance, I was going to have to look like one of the models.

And these models weren't in street attire. No, the 'normal' fashion shows had been last week and this week was strictly 'Haute Couture' where the designers pulled out all the stops to demonstrate their creativity and 'wear-ability in public' was not one of the criteria. So far from what I had seen this particular show seemed to have a dual theme – naughtily displaying underwear when it shouldn't be displayed and pirates. Pirates? I thought Captain Jack and Johnny Depp were so a several years ago, but this was France and they had always marched to the beat of a different fashion drummer.

So if my internal clock was right, I had about thirty seconds to improvise a costume to blend in with the other models and get out there.

I was already stripping off my blazer and blouse as I scanned the nearest racks and tables. Thanks to Amanda I didn't have to worry about the top half. Oh, I wasn't braless like I suspect she usually was, but it had to be her influence that made me decide to wear the sexiest bra I had brought with me – a black and white Dream Angels push-up bra from Victoria's. Not that I needed the pushup effect anymore with my immortal enhancements. Now I just needed something for my lower half, as I couldn't, no wouldn't go out there in just my panties. Fortunately, just then I spotted a pair of black and white pirate-style leggings that matched my bra well enough and thigh-high black boots with what had to be five inch heels. Quickly, I pulled on the leggings and the boots, which fortunately zipped up rather than using time-consuming laces.

As soon as I was done I glanced in the mirror. The outfit worked with my new ripped body, but something was missing. It only took a second to realize it was the makeup. All the girls had massive lash extensions, including a few made of feathers, and what looked like pounds of dark eye shadow. I didn't have time for anything fancy so I dipped a finger into a jar of something black and smeared a big glob between my upper eyelids and eyebrows. Then for good measure, I dipped two fingers into something deep crimson and drew a pair of diagonal slashes across my face and then two more matching, slightly wider slashes across my abs.

Now all that was needed was some pirate like accessory. Some of the girls had been carrying a brace of fake wooden single shot antique pistols and a few had been carrying fake cutlasses. 'Little Dragon' wasn't exactly a pirate weapon, but it would have to do and even if I wasn't proficient with it, it would feel better than some cardboard mockup. After a quick glance around, I flicked my right wrist, felt the 'snap' in my head, and 'Little Dragon' was clutched comfortably in my hand.

I had stepped into a partially sheltered spot to change, but now as I moved towards the stairs leading up to the runway staging area, I was intercepted by Jai.

"What the fuck, Annie?" he exclaimed loudly, although his voice probably didn't carry more than six or seven feet over the blaring music. But it was enough to attract the attention of the other two guys in his pretend interview crew. As the cameraman swung his camera away from the other girls and towards me, Jai just repeated the same phrase over again.

And after a quick brief glance at my face, his attention was completely riveted on my body. I spent a brief moment trying to remember if he had ever seen me in anything besides my business suit, not counting earlier today. I could claim to be a hardcore gym rat, which would almost explain my body, but only if he hadn't ever seen my old body before. Because 'normal' people didn't develop bodies like this overnight, it would take years to achieve.

Then I remembered Auggie and Joan were out front unprotected. And also the very real possibility existed that nukes and nerve gas were located somewhere in the building. I didn't have time to deal with Jai now. If he had seen my old, normal body, I would have to deal with it later.

"I think bad things are about to happen out front and I need to get out there," I said at almost a shout to be heard. I don't know if my new body is that menacing or if I was waving 'Little Dragon' around in a scary manner, but Jai's dark complexion seemed to blanche, as he took a step backwards.

Quickly, before I lost my nerve, I strode passed him and climbed the stairs to the runway.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Duncan had suggested I memorize the map showing the locations of all the 'Holy Ground' spots in the city in case I ever felt 'The Buzz'. And if I did feel 'The Buzz' I should run like hell for the nearest one. Even more strongly he recommended I should stay away from Sarondi. So what was I doing - ignoring his every suggestion. Well, I had taken thirty seconds to identify the two closest bits of 'Holy Ground' to this location. Unfortunately, they were both roughly six blocks away and unlikely to do me any good seeing as I was about to step directly into the lion's den, so to speak.

Reaching the top of the backstage stairs, I paused and took a deep breath. My chest expanded, the hard muscles of my abs tightened, and I felt suddenly two inches taller. Not that that feeling or the five inch booted heels I was wearing brought me anywhere near the height of the 'real' models. But since I wasn't about to go out and get surgically implanted leg-extensions, my height and attire were going to have to do.

Quickly, I stepped past the two girls already lined up and waiting their turns to hike down the runway. A man dressed all in black wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard was standing just short of where he would be visible by the audience. Without even looking in my direction, he raised the clipboard to block my progress.

When I moved to push his arm out of the way, the man finally looked up. And I must have been displaying something approaching an ugly snarl, as he abruptly took a half step back. Then he seemed to realize he was almost out on the visible portion of the runway and stepped back in my direction while raising both hands to signal me to get back.

I lifted 'Little Dragon' until it rested casually across my right shoulder. Then I reached out with my left hand and grabbed his shirt front. He wasn't a particularly big man, but I still surprised myself when I almost lifted him from his feet. Amanda had said immortals were thirty percent stronger than the equivalent human, and this time she seemed to be right. Hopefully, that meant some of the other things she had said were also going to be true.

I 'toe-marched' him through ninety degrees until he was out of my way and then I released him. Without pausing to think about it, I strode out onto the runway and felt like I was suddenly almost blind; the lights illuminating the runway were that bright.

Taking another deep breath, I squared my shoulders and started moving forward. The five inch heels forced an exaggerated sway to my stride. I lifted 'Little Dragon' from my shoulder and casually slashed it about several times. And with each movement of the weapon it simply felt more and more natural. Without any conscious thought, I twirled it about my body in a complex pattern only stopping when I saw one of the models moving in my direction through the blinding haze.

And it was fortunate I was forced to lower 'Little Dragon', because four strides down the runway was when it hit. 'The Buzz' hammered into my head. I must have been getting close to where Sarondi was talking to the Russians when I was hit by 'The Buzz' a second time. And then again. AND AGAIN.

Abruptly it was driven home that there were at least four Immortals in the audience. And every old spy movie I had ever seen seemed to come rushing to mind. It wasn't a sole 'bad' Immortal I was dealing with, but a whole cadre. Was there an entire network of 'bad' Immortals out there ready to menace the world like SPECTRE in the old James Bond movies? What had we stumbled into? One rampaging Immortal might be more than my unprepared team could handle let alone four.

But at the moment I couldn't think what to do except keep moving down the runway. If I jumped down into the audience, that might be the catalyst which would cause things to go horribly wrong.

However, either my mere presence was enough or something happened down in the audience I could barely perceive through the blinding lights, but abruptly a woman screamed. And then muzzle flashes overcame the brilliant lights and gun reports overwhelmed the wailing music. I knew Auggie and Joan were sitting on the left side of the runway, so I dove in that direction from my highly exposed position.

As I plunged out of the light and into the relative darkness of the audience, I felt a shearing jolt of pain lance through my left side just above my hip. Whether I had been an intentional target or not, one of the many rounds bouncing around the marble-lined hall had caught me in the side.

I crashed down on top of a row of elegantly clad middle-aged women. The pain in my side was beyond anything I think I had ever experienced, but through it I remembered how Amanda had been shot in the arm back at Sarondi's apartment building and had healed before my eyes. Since this shot hadn't killed me outright, I needed to focus on the mission at hand and trust my immortal body could take care of itself.

As quickly as I could disentangle myself from the women, I rolled to the floor between the first row of chairs and the edge of the runway. Remembering the miniature blue lightning bolts which had danced around Amanda's arm as it healed, I quickly slapped my left hand over my wound as I scanned the situation.

The show had descended into complete pandemonium. People were rushing every which way. Some were making for the rear exits and some were climbing onto the runway to use the route I had just entered through. And sporadic gun fire still echoed around the enclosed space. When my eyes finally adjusted to the lower level of light off the exposed runway, I saw Joan about fifteen feet in front of me half sprawled on the floor behind a tiny barrier of three overturned wooden chairs.

Crawling in her direction, I saw she had her gun out and was firing shots high and towards the ceiling to keep the opponents distracted while not hitting any of the hundreds of civilians in the crowd. But I realized she was doing it awkwardly and with her left hand. Then I spotted the large crimson blossom spreading across the right shoulder of her yellow dress. Joan had taken a hit, too, and she wasn't going to heal in a matter of minutes like me.

"Joan!" I was in the middle of shouting when someone finally killed the sound system. It didn't instantly become quiet with hundreds of people still screaming and scrambling for the exits, but you could communicate with someone next to you without shouting.

"Joan, how badly are you hit?" I asked as I crawled up beside her.

Instantly the startled woman's gun began swinging down towards me. I loosened my grip on 'Little Dragon' and was just reaching up with my right hand to block the gun when I saw the flash of recognition register in her eyes. I'm sure my dramatically painted face hadn't helped in all the turmoil.

"Annie," she exclaimed, as she let the gun drop to her torso; it's modest impact eliciting an intense grimace of pain.

"I'll live," she continued after a couple of seconds. Then she seemed to take in the way I had my left hand pressed against my side. "Are you hit, too?"

"It's just a flesh wound," I stated. Then as my eyes swept the area, I asked. "What the hell happened? Where's Auggie?"

"Auggie must have leaned too close or something when he was listening to the Russians' conversation and they realized he understood their language. I had made him prominently display his white cane and I thought it would keep him safe, but they grabbed him and dragged him away. I'm not certain what was the exact cause, but that's when the shooting started."

They had Auggie! Suddenly the one brief kiss we had shared seemed to mean a lot more than it had. I might be about to lose him, if he was in the clutches of Immortals who had very little regard for human life. I had to act fast if there was going to be any hope of rescuing him.

"This is Ranger," I almost shouted into my microphone. "Man down. I repeat man down. Star has been hit and needs immediate medical attention. And Emperor is missing. Does anyone have eyes on Emperor?"

Joan's eyelids were beginning to droop and the hand clasping the gun went limp. I was moving to put pressure on her wound when the almost forgotten 'buzz' suddenly intensified. Immediately, I grabbed my sword with my right hand and Joan's gun with my left. If it meant someone seeing any remaining blue sparks at my injury, so be it. I was just starting to push myself erect so I wouldn't be a helpless target, when a familiar presence dropped to the floor next to me.

"Annie, you really know how to throw a party. I can't remember an event quite like this since I spent St. Valentine's Day with Al Capone back in '29."

"Amanda, what are you doing here?" I said with relief, as I couldn't help but take in the white catsuit which had replaced the black one from the night before. Only Amanda had the body to carry off wearing in public something that looked like it belonged up on the runway of a 'haute couture' show.

At least one of the four 'buzzes' was now accounted for by a 'friendly'. Or at least I hoped she was a 'friendly'. Although after rejoining the paranoid world of the C.I.A. for the last couple of hours, I felt a moment of doubt.

"Duncan thought you could use a little backup in case things went wonky and he certainly seems to have been right."

Duncan was here somewhere, too. That only left Sarondi and one other Immortal unaccounted for. I felt a little better until I remembered they had Auggie. And having Duncan and Amanda's help might not improve his odds at this point.

"Annie, who are you talking to?" asked Joan.

I had almost forgotten Joan was still there and still more or less lucid. If she figured out I had met Amanda during the five hours I had been missing, my career might be finished. Not that I hadn't been thinking about quitting anyway, but I wanted it to be my decision not hers.

"She's just one of the models I met backstage," I improvised. "Joan, you need to rest. Help is on the way."

"Ranger, this is Cowboy. Emperor has been spotted in the South East stairwell heading towards the basement. There is direct access from there to both a Metro station and the sewer system."

"Thanks, Cowboy," I answered into my earpiece. When I had learned Jai's codename, I was almost certain Auggie was behind the assignment of the names. But at the moment I didn't care if Jai's was 'Hunk of Burning Love', if he pointed me in the right direction to find Auggie.

I glanced down at Joan and even in her weakened state she obviously had received the message through her own earpiece and understood it.

"Annie, go. I'll be fine until help gets here."

I hesitated only a moment. Joan was tough or she never would have reached her position within the Firm.

"I'll get him back," I said with all the conviction I could muster, as I shoved Joan's gun into the waistband of my ridiculous pirate pants and grabbed 'Little Dragon'. I shot one quick glance towards Amanda, who was also climbing to her feet, and then raced for the exit.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

One of the tech guys, code named 'Gandalf', was feeding me intel through my earpiece as I raced for the stairs leading to the lower level, or lower levels as I quickly learned. The first below ground level had a corridor leading to the Metro stop, as well as leading to a vast network of storage areas extending the full length of the half-mile long palace. The lowest level was mostly unused, but had once been a dungeon for prisoners too important or too politically sensitive to be sent to the Bastille.

We had been fighting our way through the escaping crowd, which was filled with people shouting about 'terrorists' in French. Finally, on reaching the stairwell not far from the main entrance to this end of the palace we separated from the crowd which was roaring towards the supposed safety outside the building. But if the nerve gas was released or one of the nukes detonated, the area outside the building wouldn't be any safer than the area inside.

At the bottom of the first flight of stairs, I discovered two of our men in the standard-issue dark suits and maroon ties huddled near the walls taking furtive glances down the corridor while holding their MP5 Machine Pistols in tight grips. As I slid to a halt next to Steve Woodward, I could see several crumpled forms in security guard uniforms lying exposed about forty feet down the corridor.

"What's the SitRep?" I asked bluntly.

He shot me a quick startled glance and then did a double take at my scanty outfit of bra and striped pirate pants and at the body-paint and blood decorating my body. Then his eyes briefly flicked passed me to Amanda.

"Annie?" he started and then with a shake of his head he forced his attention back to business. "We just got here about fifteen seconds ago. We were upstairs mingling with the crowd when a group of at least eight gunmen burst out of the showroom's entrance. They headed straight for the stairs and two of them were dragging Auggie between them. We heard gunfire once they reached the bottom, which had to be them taking out the security guards lying down there. Someone is lingering down at the next corner laying down covering fire. We are not going to be able to get down this corridor until we get some reinforcements with heavier body armor and some shields."

I nodded in acknowledgement and then leaned out to get a better view. Immediately a shot rang out to force me back. But the glance had told me enough. A twenty foot sprint would get me to another spot of cover. Then if I made it another twenty-five feet I could reach a spot of cover that should give me a clear shot at the shooter, unless he retreated further down whatever corridor lay beyond the bend.

I was steeling myself to make the charge across the twenty feet of open ground, when Amanda flashed passed me at a dead run. And her dead run had to be up in Olympic 100 meter range. She took four hard driving strides and then dove and slid the rest of the way to the sheltering alcove. Several shots rang out, but I don't think any of them connected.

"Give me some covering fire," I said to Woodward, as I leapt forward in my own crazy dash. Several shots rang out from both sides before I safely did my own slide into the next alcove.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I whispered to Amanda as I caught my breath. "Auggie's one of my best friends, but you don't have to help."

"Who's Auggie?" Amanda asked with one lifted eyebrow.

"One of the guys on my team. He's about six foot, dark brown hair, blind. He's hard to miss." Then I turned to look Amanda in the face as she stared down the corridor judging the timing for her next move. "If you don't know or care about Auggie, then why are you doing this?"

She only spared me a quick glance before turning her attention back out into the corridor. "There might be nukes down here and they could spoil my whole day."

"Don't forget the nerve gas," I added.

"The gas won't hurt me, so I don't care. But nukes can kill Immortals and if Immortals are going to use them in an attempt to win 'The Game', well, we can't have that."

It appeared Amanda still had a long way to go to reach the chivalrous ideal Duncan espoused. But at the moment I was just grateful for her help. I remembered how Amanda had waded through Sarondi's men like a weed-wacker cutting grass back at his apartment. Had that only been ten hours ago? It suddenly felt like half a lifetime had passed since then.

"Me first, this time," I stated before bolting from our sheltered position. The next bit of cover was on the opposite side of the corridor and required crossing an even longer stretch of open ground then the last dash. At least for the last little bit I should have a clear shot at our opponent, so I drew Joan's gun before I started to run. And I was suddenly glad I had stowed 'Little Dragon' while in the cover of the crowd, as it would just be in the way until I got close enough to somebody to use it.

I was undecided whether speed or dodging was the best answer in this situation so I compromised on one jink in the middle of the run. I thought I was going to make it unscathed until a round ricocheted off the floor in front of me and hit my right thigh. It spun me half around, but I managed to turn it into a rolling dive and slipped into the next doorway. Before I let the new fountain of pain overwhelm me, I squeezed off a couple of rounds of cover fire for Amanda.

She came crashing down on top of me just as the gunman broke into a retreat. If she had arrived a fraction of a second later, I think I could have hit him. But she jarred my arm just as my gun went off and by the time we were disentangled, he was out of sight.

"Thanks, Amanda," I said around a grimace of pain.

We both looked at the new red splotch spreading across my pants. Between it, the blood on my side from the earlier hit, and Joan's blood still on my hands and arms, the red accents I had added to my costume were blending to insignificance.

"How did you ever survive long enough to reach the ripe old age of 28 before suffering your first death? You certainly do accumulate injuries," snickered Amanda.

"Give me a break. I never would have gone charging down this corridor like Schwarzenegger in one of his old movies, if I didn't know I was immortal."

"Still, you could be lying dead back there and then suddenly have revived in front of a bunch of friends or French police. That would have ended your old life," said Amanda.

"Auggie's life is more important than my stupid career," I responded more hotly than was probably warranted.

Amanda nodded her head. "Good. Keep that in mind and we'll have you thinking like an immortal in no time. You do seem to have the acting like an immortal down already." Then she nodded towards my leg. "Are you ready to move?"

I had been watching my leg and the lightning bolts had disappeared about ten seconds earlier. I rose to my feet, still careful to stay within the safety of the doorway and flexed my leg. It still hurt like hell, but it seemed to be functional.

"Yeah," I responded.

"Good," was all Amanda said before rising to her feet and walking nonchalantly out from the doorway where we had been taking cover. Obviously, she was certain the gunman was no longer a danger, at least until we reached the next corner.

I followed her out, working hard not to favor my injured leg. Woodward may have thought he had seen me get hit and I needed to convince him that wasn't the case.

Amanda reached the next corner ahead of me, took a quick peek, and then began to sprint down the next section. I broke into a run to follow her, but she steadily pulled away. The wound in my leg only slowed me a little, I think. No, I attributed most of the difference to Amanda's nearly six inch longer legs. As I ran, I remembered from some old college class that people in the Middle Ages were supposed to be a lot shorter than people from the present day due to the much poorer diet. I don't know if that was generally the case, but it certainly didn't apply to Amanda.

She skidded to a halt at the next corner and took another peek. I had just about caught up when Amanda started moving again, but this time at a more leisurely walk. When I rounded the corner, I saw a man crumpled on the ground who had to be the gunman and Duncan was standing over the body. I was really glad to see him, as I hadn't seen him up at the show.

"How did you get here?" Amanda was asking as I walked up.

"When I saw it was Tarasov who Sarondi was meeting, I knew the exchange would take place down here. I just used another entrance to try and head them off. Unfortunately, I was too late and only managed to stop this guy."

"Who's Tarasov?" I asked. The Russian Mafia wasn't my specialty, but I had seen a list of key names before we had left the hotel. I didn't remember seeing Tarasov.

I had spent the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college in Saint Petersburg as part of a 'study abroad' program focused on the iconic art of the Eastern Orthodox Church housed at the Hermitage. I had learned most of my Russian during that summer. And based on that time, I also knew Tarasov was a relatively common Russian surname. Not quite as common as 'Smith' or 'Jones' in the States, but more in the range of 'Brown' or 'Stevens'.

"Grigori Vasiliev Tarasov is an immortal I have crossed paths with before," responded Duncan. "He is a fanatical Russian nationalist and I am surprised he would be willing to sell weapons of this grade to any outsider. Oh, I wouldn't have been surprised if it was just surplus AK-47s or the like, but not things like nerve gas or nukes."

"And how did you know the exchange would be down here?" asked Amanda.

"The last time our paths nearly crossed was here in the palace, so I know he's familiar with the lower levels of the Louvre," answered Duncan. Then he grinned, as he continued. "You remember that little shit, Bonaparte? Well, after his abortive invasion of Russia, Tarasov came here to assassinate him for the audacity of attacking Mother Russia. Once I heard about his plans, I felt honor-bound to report it since I had old friends in the French military from the French Revolution days. And although my interests were more aligned with England during that period, England and France weren't actively fighting early in 1813."

"Did you try to kill him?" I asked, once more amazed at the historic times these immortals had lived through and some of the famous people they appeared to have known or at least met.

Duncan shook his head. "No, I was in Paris on other business and I felt passing along the information was sufficient. Truthfully, by that point it was obvious Napoleon was well on his way to wrecking France and I didn't really care if Tarasov succeeded or not.

"But he didn't succeed and was nearly caught down here in the lower levels of the palace, or so I heard. And since France was still heavily into using the guillotine in those days, I assume when Tarasov realized he wasn't going to succeed, he broke for home. But he definitely had detailed plans to both the upper visible parts of the palace and these lower levels in those days, and things have changed surprisingly little here in the intervening two hundred years."

This history lesson was fascinating, but I could feel the clock ticking in my head. I still didn't understand why they had grabbed Auggie, but the longer he was in their hands, the higher the odds he would end up dead.

"Come on, let's go," I said. "They have my friend, Auggie, and I'm just as afraid of them killing him, as I am of the transfer going through and the weapons getting passed us."

Duncan nodded and I could almost see his 'chivalry' mode kicking in.

Quickly, his Japanese katana 'snapped' into his hand and only moments later Amanda's French long sword followed suit.

I checked the clip in Joan's gun and discovered I only had four rounds left. I slid the gun back into the waistband of my pants and drew my German Kriegsmesser.

Duncan reached for the door leading into the vast store rooms of the palace. But before he opened it, he turned to me and grinned.

"Oh, by the way, I love your outfit. It looks so conservative and professional."

I felt the blush spread across my cheeks as I remembered our final conversation during the drive to the hotel.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Duncan led the way into the first large storeroom. It was filled with wooden crates of a variety of sizes that had to hold part of the Louvre's massive art collection. From my cover position with The Smithsonian, I knew less than ten percent of the Smithsonian's collection was on public display at any given time. I suspected the same was true for the Louvre.

Within the first twenty feet it was obvious there were multiple routes through this large room, but Duncan moved steadily forward, as though he knew exactly where we were going. After the third seemingly almost random turn, I had to ask.

"Duncan, do you know where they are?" I whispered.

"No," came his quiet reply. "I'm tracking them."

"Duncan spent thirty years living among the American Indians. When was that? The 1700s or the 1800s?" added Amanda in not nearly as quiet of a voice as Duncan and I had been using. But then she probably didn't care if we were discovered. No, with her underlying brashness, it seemed like she would prefer a straight-up fight to sneaking in and attempting to rescue Auggie without being noticed.

"The 1800s. Now shush, I'm trying to listen for them," Duncan replied.

I remembered old movies, particularly Westerns, where people were tracked by watching for broken twigs or bent grass, but there was nothing like that down here. Then I watched Duncan's eyes for a minute and saw how a lot of his attention was directed to the floor. That's when I noticed all the dust on the floor and the scuff marks leading forward from our current position. I carefully filed it away for future reference. You never knew in my line of work when you might find yourself in another dusty warehouse trying to track somebody.

We were passing into the third chamber when the trail we had been following split into three different directions. Duncan studied the scuff marks for nearly a minute before gesturing for me to follow the left set, Amanda to follow the right set, while he set off following the set leading straight ahead.

I hesitated for only a moment before setting out. The true scariness of the situation had been dampened while in the company of the two older, more experienced immortals; now I could feel the adrenaline levels ramping back up. But it wasn't like I was a neophyte straight off the street. I had been through the C.I.A.'s intensive training course at the Farm. Well, I had been through most of it, I think, before I was jerked out to work an urgent mission and then had never had the opportunity to go back and finish it.

I followed my personal dust trail through two more rooms. It felt like I had to have traveled halfway down the length of the sprawling palace. I had just noticed a large crate labeled 'Monet' and was wondering how anyone could not have every Monet they possessed on permanent display, when I started to hear faint voices ahead.

It took me a second to realize I wasn't feeling any 'buzz' and hadn't felt any since separating from Duncan and Amanda. I could understand how you could follow people just by looking at the tracks in the dust, but how had Duncan known from those meager marks which way the other immortals had gone? Not that I was complaining, I knew I stood a better chance against a room full of mortals than against a solitary immortal.

Slowly, I made my way closer to the source of the voices taking care not to let 'Little Dragon' clatter against any of the steel shelving. After about two minutes I reached a spot where I could peek through a gap between several large boxes.

I saw a couple of guys with machine guns standing in the main passage I had been following. They were smoking and talking quietly. They struck me as outlying guards to keep anyone from reaching the main event without an alarm being raised.

I backed away until another row of crates separated us and then moved to my right in hopes of getting passed them unnoticed. Once I was beyond them, I debated whether I should double back and take them from behind, but in the end decided against it. I certainly wasn't that good yet where I could guarantee taking them both out before they might get out a warning cry or shot. And there was a good possibility I might find an alternate route out of this subterranean structure without ever coming back this way. So once I was passed them, I just kept moving forward.

Finally, about a room and a half further, I heard more voices, a lot more voices, and fortunately still no 'buzz'. I again crept forward until I could get a better look.

A large, relatively cleared space lay ahead. Instead of the endless wooden crates I had seen so far, this area contained over twenty aluminum cases of varying sizes ranging from some only slightly larger than briefcases to a couple that had to be ten feet long by four feet wide. At least four of the cases fell in the size range Joan had described for the suitcase nukes and then it occurred to me the smaller ones could possibly contain the nerve gas.

I had found the location of the exchange, but even more importantly to me at the moment, I had found Auggie! He was sitting on a wooden crate in the far corner of the open space. There weren't any guards immediately hovering around him, so he must be tied up in some way. Or perhaps, just perhaps, the guards had gotten sloppy because he was blind. Craning my head around, I realized I could just possibly work my way around to his position without leaving the cover of the surrounding crates. I did a quick headcount – ten – and pulled back from my almost exposed location and began to work my way around towards Auggie. On the one hand I wanted to move quiet and slow, but on the other hand, one or both of the other Immortals could show up at any moment and sense my presence.

It took me three minutes at my best compromise between stealth and speed to reach a spot almost directly behind Auggie. I leaned out just briefly to verify none of the others had moved closer before I spoke.

"Auggie, it's me. How are you restrained?"

Auggie didn't jerk in surprise, but then in the several years since he had lost his sight, I knew his other senses had become enhanced. The remnants of my perfume had probably registered well before I spoke.

"My hands are tied behind my back, but that's it," he whispered in reply.

"Turn slightly to your right so I can reach the bonds without them seeing me," I said. Then I glanced down at 'Little Dragon'. Duncan apparently kept all the swords in his collection ready for use at a moment's notice, because my sword had an extremely sharp edge. "I have a large knife and will cut you free," I added.

It took only a moment for 'Little Dragon' to slice through the ropes. The only challenging part was doing it without slicing straight into Auggie's arm, too.

Once the bonds were free, Auggie carefully held his arms behind his back while I took another peek. None of the men in the room appeared to have noticed my actions yet.

I took another lingering glance at the pile of aluminum cases in the center of the space. If the nukes and the nerve gas were there, there was nothing I could do about them now. I needed to get Auggie out of there and then round up some reinforcements. Unfortunately, the radio in my headset had a limited range and with the thick walls in this old structure, I had been out of radio contact with my people since about the second turn after the stairs. I needed to get us at least to another stairwell where my radio might once again work.

"Can you run if we have to?" I whispered.

"Hell, yes," was Auggie's immediate response.

I reached out and got a firm grip on the back of his shirt. "The crate ends about a foot to your left. Slowly slide over and then ease yourself to the floor. Let me pull you back behind this stack of crates before you try to get up. No sudden moves that might register in anyone's peripheral vision."

Auggie gave an almost imperceptible nod before he began to move at an agonizingly slow pace. Again I was torn between the need for speed and stealth, one of the Immortals could show up at any moment.

After what felt like ten minutes, but was probably less than two, Auggie was on the floor and I was pulling him further back into the cover of the surrounding crates. And once again I thanked my newfound strength. And then I had to admit I was suddenly thankful for the whole immortality thing. Without it, I would have been dead or seriously wounded several times over rather than being able to help my friend.

Once he was far enough back, I helped him to his feet. And then I couldn't stop myself from giving him a quick kiss. Whatever I had started back at the hotel wasn't over yet.

Then I quickly grabbed his arm and started pulling him away from the area. I knew for certain there were more guards back the way I had come, so I headed in the opposite direction.

As soon as we were around the next corner I whispered, "Do you know why they grabbed you?"

Auggie shrugged. "Not exactly. Most of the guys have been speaking Arabic. What little I grasped from that and what the Russians have been saying; it sounded like I was part hostage and part bait."

Bait for whom I wondered. The C.I.A. or whatever government agency they thought Auggie worked for, or bait for Immortals? Sarondi must have sensed Duncan, Amanda, and me during the show, but it seemed unlikely he knew of my association with the Firm. Hell, he might not even know of my connection with the break-in at his apartment. And perhaps that's why he had gone ahead with the exchange even after the break-in. He might have thought only Amanda and perhaps Duncan were aware of the exchange and that they might not even interfere until he sensed us at the show.

So it suddenly felt distinctly possible Sarondi might not have suspected the amount of manpower we had brought to the show or at least until the firefight broke out upstairs. It might still give us the upper hand. Oh, it seemed unlikely we would be able to prevent Sarondi from escaping, but we still might be able to bottle up the weapons.

My thoughts about the whole situation with Sarondi and the weapons were abruptly interrupted by a whispered question from Auggie.

"Annie, where you serious about what you said back at the hotel – you know about quitting the Agency together? And, well, ah . . . ah, about the kiss, too?"

I felt a stupid grin forming on my face.

I was just about to respond when Auggie stopped dead and made a shushing motion with his hands. He stood frozen for about twenty seconds.

"They've realized I am gone. We have to move fast," he whispered urgently.

Amanda had told me immortality granted enhanced strength and speed. If it granted any kind of enhanced hearing, it certainly wasn't in the same league as the hearing of the blind man standing next to me. Quickly, I moved us from the relatively large passageway we had been following and into a side passage.

We had covered hardly more than a hundred feet in this underground maze before Auggie's absence had been discovered. I had hoped for a bigger lead, but this was better than nothing.

Or at least I thought so until Auggie once again stopped us and then used his hands to find the side of my head and pulled me in close.

"There are at least two more men directly in front of us," he breathed directly in my ear at even less than a whisper.

Immediately, I dropped us to a crouch to make us a less visible target. And once again I wondered at how and why all the lights in the whole basement seemed to be turned on. Under normal circumstances, this level would probably be dark except when employees were actively working down here, yet all the lights were blazing. Perhaps some of these guys were afraid of the dark, I thought hopefully, but assumed there was a more logical explanation. They must have thought it gave them an advantage for some reason – like it would make it more difficult for anyone to sneak up on them. However since I hadn't come equipped with any nightvision goggles, or hell, even a flashlight, I had been thankful for the light. But now, since they would be actively looking for Auggie, and probably suspecting someone was helping him, hiding would be a lot easier, if it wasn't so bright.

But then I remembered an extended period of hiding couldn't be our priority. There were a lot of potential routes Sarondi's men could use to get themselves and the weapons out of here. I knew where they were now, but that intel would grow stale fast.

Quickly, holding myself and Auggie at a crouch, I got us moving again in a direction more or less perpendicular to both the main group of men by the weapons cache and the men Auggie had heard in front of us.

Unfortunately, before we had covered more than thirty feet from where we had paused, a shot rang out from behind us. Although before I ever heard it, I felt it. The shot hit me in the left shoulder and drove me forward into Auggie's back, driving us to the floor.

The impact hurt like hell - worse than either the grazing shot to my side I had taken upstairs or the hit to the thigh back during my earlier rush against the delaying gunman. But like the previous ones, this latest hit hadn't taken me completely out of action either, and I forced us back to our feet long enough to get us around the next section of shelving and hopefully out of the direct line of fire.

As I sat there, gasping in pain, Auggie started running his hands across my body.

"Annie, are you hit?" he asked urgently, not bothering to whisper since the opponents obviously knew where we were.

"Yeah, left shoulder," I said, as I struggled back to my feet. At least Auggie couldn't see the blue lightning already dancing around my wound, I thought, as I felt a hint of hysteria creep into my voice. "But we have to keep moving; these guys aren't going to be taking any prisoners, now, since we know where the weapons are."

Auggie nodded while staring around in that sometimes disconcerting way of his. He moved towards me and looked like he was trying to support me from my right side, but something told me I needed to keep my right hand and the sword I still held free.

"I'm still okay to move and lead," I whispered almost fiercely. "I'm going to put your left hand on my right shoulder. Try to keep up."

With one more deep breath, I charged across the next cross-aisle in the direction away from the shooter's last position and then immediately swung right towards the outer wall of this broad room. I led us on a brisk zigzagging course until I found what I had been looking for – a large power junction box mounted on the wall. Since this whole palace dated from long before the development of electricity, the electrical system had to have been retro-fitted after the fact and that most likely would have left it exposed rather than buried within the walls.

Unfortunately, the opposition could move a lot faster than a wounded girl, even an Immortal one, who was leading a blind man. Shots started ringing out while we were still thirty feet short of my destination.

Quickly, I shoved Auggie sideways into the nearest cross aisle, as I surged forward as fast as I could make my still recovering body run. I had almost reached the junction box when the first shooter was joined by a second man with an automatic weapon.

I was two steps from my goal when a row of heavy projectiles started slamming into my back. The pain lancing through my body was unbelievable and I knew my survival time under this punishment was down to mere seconds. Using every ounce of my willpower to raise 'Little Dragon', I slashed it hard down across the heavy cables entering one side of the box. There was a massive shower of sparks as the heavy steel blade tore through the copper wiring.

Everything began going dark as I slid to the floor. I didn't know if I had succeeded in killing the lights to level the playing field for Auggie or if the descending darkness was just an incontrovertible symptom I was dying. Again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Part 1

With a single sharp gasp I was back. And this time there was no lingering confusion like after my first death back at Sarondi's apartment. No, this time it was more like a light switch had briefly been thrown and I had been turned off and then back on. All my memories snapped instantly into place.

And then the light switch metaphor struck me as so appropriate, I almost laughed. Or perhaps the urge to laugh was merely the result of still being very much alive. Either way, I was now lying in total darkness; my last second blow with the sword to kill the lights had obviously been successful.

Those thoughts seemed to flash through my mind in the two seconds it took to register that I wasn't lying in the position in which I had fallen after the impact of the string of bullets from the large caliber automatic weapon. I had been falling face-first towards the floor when my personal lights had gone out. But now I was on my back, definitely cradled in someone's arms.

"Auggie?" I whispered.

"Annie?" he echoed back uncertainly.

Before he got any more words out, I felt something wet land on my cheek. It had to be a tear, I realized, as a second one silently splattered down.

Of course, Auggie would have thought I was dead. Hell, I had been dead when he must have reached me and found my lifeless body. His enhanced sense of touch would have immediately found the row of bullet holes and the complete lack of any signs of life – no rising and falling of the chest, no beating of the heart.

And I had never had an opportunity to warn him of my special abilities. Oh, I could have whispered something during our mad rush to escape, but who would believe such a crazy story without a shred of proof? No, Auggie, at best, would have thought it was just a case of false bravado on my part to convince him to hang back if I needed to do something suicidal to save him.

Of course, another reason I hadn't blurted it out to Auggie had been what Duncan had said back at the barge. It was dangerous for mortals to know of our existence. But that was only part of it. I would trust Auggie with my life and, I think, my new secret, but deep inside I had been worried about how he would take it. Would he go running and screaming for the hills? Or even worse, would he appear to accept it on the surface, but ultimately come to resent me, as he slowly aged and I remained forever 28? Would I lose my best friend over this?

But there was nothing for it but to push forward now. Auggie had seen me come back from the dead and there was no going back.

Slowly I lifted my head from where he had been cradling it in his lap and sat up. Then quickly I ran my left hand up his body until it reached his head and I could locate his face in the total darkness. As I leaned close, I wondered if this darkness was what life was like for him all day, every day. He had so much more inner strength than me to cope with, hell, to thrive with this unimaginable disability.

My lips first touched what had to be his nose before I slid them lower and found the right angle to reach his mouth. Then I kissed him hungrily and with far more passion than either of our two earlier short kisses.

It took him several seconds to react, as I'm sure the shock of my impossible return was still overwhelming. But then he was returning my kiss with equal fervor.

I wanted the kiss to last forever, but after no more than a minute, okay, five minutes tops, Auggie pulled his head ever so slightly back.

"How?" he breathed.

A shit-eating grin spread across my face. And with Auggie's strong hands cradling my face in the same way mine continued to touch his, he couldn't have missed it either.

"Apparently, I'm Immortal. Or at least things like guns can't permanently kill me," I whispered back before I leaned in for another quick kiss.

"How?" Auggie breathed again when we came up for air.

I forced myself to pull back more than the fraction of an inch which had separated us the last time I had spoken. I was alive and Auggie was alive. But the nukes and nerve gas were still out there, too. There would be time for kissing, and maybe more, after we completed the mission.

"There has always been a small scattering of people down through the ages who become Immortal after their first death. And after their first death they stop aging and their bodies have incredible rejuvenative powers like being able to heal from gunshot wounds in a matter of minutes."

I paused to stand up and then pulled Auggie to his feet before continuing.

"I didn't learn I was Immortal until I was shot and killed back at Sarondi's apartment."

I paused and waited for Auggie's reaction. And as I stood there in the total darkness, I think I began to get an inkling of Auggie's world. He had to be thinking about what I had said, but without the normal visual cues I felt almost completely lost.

And then he responded with a totally unexpected question and a trace of humor restored to his voice.

"So what's with the sword? I damn near cut myself on it when I reached you and even dead, you managed to maintain a literal 'death grip' on it."

It wasn't until he spoke that I realized 'Little Dragon' was still clutched firmly in my right hand. It had barely been six hours since I had selected it, or perhaps it had selected me, but already it almost felt as much a part of me as my arms or legs.

"It's a long story," I said with a laugh before continuing. "But the nukes and the nerve gas are still out there and we need to deal with them first. Now, are any of the opposition in the immediate area?"

"No, after the burst of gunfire, they appeared to fade away. As I crept over to where you had to be, I kept expecting them to walk up and grab me or simply shoot me. And once I found your . . . ah . . . body, I didn't really care for awhile. But they disappeared."

It wasn't until then that I realized Auggie didn't know the lights were out. "Auggie, when they were busy shooting at me, I was trying to knock out the lights. I succeeded just as I was killed. It is pitch black in here. If they saw me fall before the lights went out, they may have decided it wasn't urgent to capture or kill you, too."

"Oh," was all Auggie said in reply.

"So, for the present, I am as blind as you. Do you want to lead while we try to find our way out and I'll explain a little about the sword?"

Part 2

We had been moving through the seemingly endless darkness for almost twenty minutes when I first felt 'the buzz' of other nearby immortals. Experiencing the world as it must now always appear to Auggie for such a long period of time had been scary and frightening. In the end, I think Auggie truly was doing more leading than me.

But now with the return of 'the buzz', it was my turn to take the lead. For a moment I contemplated changing directions, but then I realized I was sensing three or four Immortals rather than one or two. It had to mean Duncan and Amanda were somewhere ahead and not just the opposition, or at least so I hoped. And I had no idea what situation I might find, they might need my help, although after having seen Duncan and Amanda in previous fights against mortals, I knew I would be of little help against other immortals.

Still, the clock was ticking and we needed to reach help before the weapons all disappeared on their way to their final targets. So I alerted Auggie and took the lead.

I knew from what Amanda had said earlier that 'the buzz' had a very limited range, perhaps as little as fifty feet. Standing stock still and staring around, I finally spotted the faintest hint of light from a cross-aisle about fifteen feet to our left. Carefully making my way forward, I reached the corner and peeked around.

Someone had come better prepared than me, as the cleared area I saw opening up about two rows of stacks further ahead of me was lit by several battery-powered lanterns. And in the cleared area I could see four people standing well apart and they all were holding swords aloft.

Since they had to have sensed my presence at the same time I had sensed theirs, there didn't seem to be any point in hanging back. Grabbing Auggie's hand, I walked forward into the dim light.

When I reached the edge of the cleared area, it became obvious the Immortals were in a Mexican standoff. Duncan was facing a man I didn't recognize, but who had to be Tarasov. Amanda was facing Sarondi, who was standing near a table supporting a small aluminum case similar to some of the ones I had seen back at the weapons cache. However this one had been opened and a silvery flask slightly smaller than a coffee thermos rested atop the case. It only took one guess to understand this was one of the nerve gas containers. And it was impossible not to notice how Sarondi's sword was aimed more at the flask than at Amanda.

"MacLeod, you need to walk away and take Amanda with you," Sarondi was saying in Russian. "Or I will break the flask and the deaths of thousands of people will be on your head."

"This is not how we play the game," Duncan responded also speaking in Russian, which must have been the only common language of these four immortals. "Fight us and if you win, you get to walk away."

As I watched, I saw the way the tip of Duncan's sword wavered ever so slightly. After a couple of hours talking with him, I knew Duncan would never risk the lives of thousands of people. He would let Sarondi go and hope for another shot at him before the weapons were actually used.

And from what little I knew about the situation, Sarondi had crossed paths with Duncan several times before and had held Amanda more-or-less prisoner for eight years in his harem. He probably knew exactly how Duncan and Amanda would respond in this situation.

But I think I could read a little into Sarondi's actions, too. He was not threatening to use a nuke, which would have killed him also. No, nerve gas might temporarily kill the four immortals standing face to face, but its effects wouldn't be permanent. Then it would be just a question of which immortal revived first. So, Sarondi had no intentions of suffering a permanent death, if he could avoid it. And that gave me an angle I could work.

Situating Auggie near the shelves at the entry to this space, I took two steps forward.

"You don't want to break that flask, Sarondi," I said. Fortunately, the guttural nature of Russian made even my voice sound commanding.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded without ever taking his eyes off Amanda, who stood barely ten feet in front of him. If his attention wavered for more than a moment, Amanda could probably take him from that distance.

"I'm Walker," I said. After the last utterly crazy twelve hours, I had almost said 'Walker, Texas Ranger', but this was probably not the time for levity with thousands of lives at stake and it would probably have lost something in the translation to Russian anyway. "I work for the C.I.A. After seeing the shopping list at your apartment last night, we procured the counter agent for the Novichok A232. My whole team, including me, was inoculated two hours ago. Have you been inoculated? I'm thinking not. So if you bust that flask, I WILL take your head before you revive. You break the flask and I guarantee you will suffer a permanent death just like all the mortals in the area."

I wasn't certain I could really do it, if he was already dead from the gas, but it was the only approach I could see to get him to back down.

For the first time he took his eyes off Amanda and glanced in my direction. He immediately took a half step back although it still left him within reach of the flask.

I followed his eyes and glanced down at myself. In the dim light, it looked like I had been dunked in a 55 gallon barrel filled with blood. I didn't see a single spot of white remaining on either my bra or my pirate pants. Almost all of the blood was my own, but Sarondi had no way of knowing that. No, perhaps from his perspective, it looked like I had personally waded through half of his followers on my way here, as certainly would be in the range of possibility for an experienced Immortal based on what little I had seen.

And I realized he probably wouldn't even recognize me from the one time our paths had briefly passed back at the party at the Swiss Embassy. Then I had merely been a pre-Immortal who had been clean, elegantly dressed, and a blonde. But now I looked totally different and was putting out the same 'buzz' as the others in the room. I didn't think 'the buzz' gave away how long anyone had been an Immortal, so no point mentioning I had been Immortal for less than half a day and had never taken a head.

"Well, youngster," I added, trying to put a hint of a snarl in my voice. "Do you want certain death or are you going to play 'The Game' by the rules like a man?"

"Pussy!" interjected Amanda in an undertone. And in Russian it was even more of a slur than in English.

"Fine," said Sarondi taking a half step away from the flask and raising his sword so that it pointed more directly in Amanda's direction. "But Amanda issued the challenge. If I win, you have to let me walk."

I took a half step back and lowered the tip of my sword. I hated to leave the responsibility on Amanda's shoulders, but I had done the best I could to stop the gas from being released without letting Sarondi and Tarasov walk away scot-free with the weapons.

Duncan took a half step towards Tarasov and raised his sword higher.

Tarasov raised his sword to a defensive position, but said. "What are you doing, my old comrade? The woman issued her challenge to Sarondi. It is not your place to interfere."

"I am not interfering, comrade," responded Duncan. "I am challenging you. You stepped over the line selling nukes. This has to end now."

The Russian nodded slowly and then rearranged his stance to something that looked more offensive than defensive. Or at least that is how it looked to my untrained eye.

I don't know what I was expecting, perhaps something like the fight scene between Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone in the classic 'Robin Hood' from the 1930s. You know, the one where the swordfight seemed to go on for ten minutes while they chased each other all over the castle jumping over furniture and the like. But that wasn't what I saw.

No, this battle was much more akin to the fight Duncan and I had with Sarondi's men beside my car. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. I'm not sure the fight lasted for three exchanges, maybe not even two. Everything happened so fast, I only saw the four swords blur for what seemed like two seconds and then Sarondi's and Tarasov's heads were dropping to the floor, quickly followed by their lifeless bodies. I could see why Duncan said I wouldn't survive without training. Hell, I wondered if I would survive even with training.

And then the lightshow began.

Amanda had tried to explain about 'The Quickening', but it is something impossible to grasp until you see it and you probably can't fully grasp it until you experience it firsthand. She had said the essence of the loser, not exactly the same thing as a soul, and the essence of everyone he had ever defeated passed on to the victor. It wasn't quite like you inherited his every fighting skill, but she said at first it felt like that until it slowly receded into the background.

And just standing on the periphery of this double quickening, it felt like I was experiencing the smallest taste. Bolts of blue lightning rocketed from the exposed necks of the dead bodies looking like the blue bolts I had experienced when my body was healing from gunshot wounds – only scaled up a million times. Most of the bolts were passing straight from the defeated to the victor, but a few raced forth to collide with the nearest metal object in an attempt to ground itself almost like normal lightning.

Quickly, I grabbed Auggie's arm and tugged him away from the metal shelving and then I threw both of us to the ground. As it was, several of the bolts passed so near me, I could feel my Immortal body sing in response. And just for a second it felt like I was someone else entirely – a towering Nubian prince battling another immortal with a giant trident whose outer tangs were sharp enough to remove a head. It had to have been the essence of one of Sarondi's or Tarasov's prior victims I had experienced. The sensation had been unbelievably intense and I hadn't even been the essence's ultimate destination.

The lightshow went on for at least twenty seconds and my Immortal body was kissed by these essences at least a couple more times before it was over.

Slowly I raised my head from where I was crouched next to Auggie. Both Duncan and Amanda had been driven to their knees by the experience and the tips of their swords were jammed into the floor in front of them for added support.

It was nearly a minute before Duncan and Amanda climbed back to their feet still breathing hard. Slowly, I followed suit and then helped Auggie up, too.

Duncan stared at me for nearly a minute before nodding his head. "You are one of the most fearless . . . ah . . ." Duncan glanced at Auggie apparently not knowing how much the blind man knew about what was going on and not wanting to say the wrong thing, and therefore paused for a moment to select the right word before continuing. "Young warriors I have ever met. Without your help, I think I might have let Sarondi walk away with all the weapons."

No one had ever called me a warrior before. I suddenly felt this glow of pride inside as I realized this was probably the highest compliment Duncan, the son of a long forgotten Scottish clan chief, could bestow. And I finally understood, in at least some limited sense, that is what my job in the C.I.A. ultimately came down to. Without really thinking about it, I had been fighting the good fight to protect people. Now I just had some additional tools at my disposal, or would if I survived long enough to use them.

"Thanks," I answered. I could feel a slight blush spreading across my face, but in the dim light and with all the blood smeared on my face, it, thankfully, probably wasn't visible. "But I see what you mean about needing training if I am to survive. I would like to take you up on your offer."

As Duncan was nodding, Amanda walked up with the aluminum case held in her free hand, the flask safely restored to its padded interior niche.

"Hmm," she began as she took a closer look at me. "I think I might go with 'reckless' warrior rather than 'fearless' warrior. Most of that blood IS yours, right?"

I nodded slowly, not certain if Amanda was disappointed in me or not.

With relief I saw a grin spread across her beautiful face. "I see a lot of the younger me in you. If you survive long enough, I think you have the makings to become great someday."

Then her expression sobered.

"Let's get out of here," Amanda said. "We have some other weapons to secure and then some of us are going to need a nice long bath."

Duncan grabbed one of the lanterns and led the way out of the room. I put away 'Little Dragon', grabbed the other lantern in my left hand, and then wrapped my other arm around Auggie's waist before following the two older Immortals up out of the darkness.

Epilogue

Auggie and I walked out of one of the Louvre's side entrances into the bright afternoon Paris sunlight. It felt good after nearly three hours in the building.

Once we had come within radio range of our team, the two older Immortals had faded away into the shadows. And then after scrounging up my old clothes and cleaning up a little, we had spent an hour debriefing with Jai, who was leading the op team since Joan had been taken to the hospital. The story we had told had required a lot of half-truths and lies to avoid revealing the existence of Immortals or explaining exactly how the two chief villains had died. I could only hope this mission never became the topic for a polygraph session.

And the worst part was that the operation had to be considered a bust by most standards. Oh, the two main players were both dead, but except for the flask of nerve gas Sarondi had been personally carrying, the other weapons were long gone by the time a team had gotten to the spot where I had last seen them. We had no hard proof nukes had ever been involved, but the one flask of nerve gas we had recovered made the existence of the other five highly likely. And they were still out there somewhere.

"Still thinking about quitting?" Auggie asked quietly, slipping his hand from my elbow to around my waist as I led the way down the broad steps.

I thought about it and then shook my head before remembering Auggie couldn't see the motion.

"No, I have to see it through, at least until these weapons are accounted for." I paused for a moment to reflect on what had been going through my mind ever since witnessing the big fight between the four old Immortals and then hearing Duncan's 'warrior' remark. "And, suddenly, I have these gifts and I feel like I need to use them for some purpose. Perhaps I can help more people from within the Firm than from some spot on the sidelines." A few hours around Duncan and his old-school chivalrous attitudes seemed to be having an effect on me.

"So what do you want to do now?" I asked turning my attention from the big long-term picture to the more immediate. "We can't do anything on the case until someone turns up a lead. And it's a beautiful day; shall we explore the city for awhile?"

Auggie paused and seemed to take a deep breath to taste the fresh Parisian air after all the time we had spent in the dust-choked basement. Then a big smile, which I would almost classify as an 'evil grin', spread across his handsome face.

"We'll always have Paris. Let's go back to the hotel."

I felt a matching grin spread across my face as I wrapped my own arm tightly around his waist before leading the way out to the street in search of a taxi.

While we waited, I couldn't help thinking of how radically my life had changed in the last twelve hours. Suddenly, I was Immortal with a body that would never age and which could heal almost instantly from any injury. But at the moment, even more important than the immortality was my new relationship with Auggie. I think without his help and support I might go crazy in the coming days, weeks, and months, but together I might just survive the Immortals' Game. And if I was going to play that game, I might as well play the C.I.A.'s game, too. The C.I.A.'s game occasionally got rough and dirty, but rarely was the opposition, from inside or outside of the Firm, trying to literally take your head.

As Auggie climbed into the cab, I let my eyes sweep around the area one last time - from Pei's glass pyramid which formed the Louvre's main entrance to the Eiffel Tower standing majestically in the distance. Yes, I thought, we'll always have Paris.

The End

Author's Note

This felt like a natural place to end this story. I think the first 12 hours of Annie's new life works nicely as a complete little 'origin' story.

So, what do you think? Was it an enjoyable read? What aspects did you particularly like or dislike?

And the bigger question – how many readers would be interested in a sequel? I can see plenty of interesting things to explore in another story, but a story like this takes a lot of time and energy to write. If there isn't much enthusiasm for one, I will just move on to something else, as I always seem to have more story ideas than I ever have time to write. So anyway, if you would like to see a sequel, drop me a review. And if you have any particular thoughts on things you would like to see or not see in a sequel, be sure to include them.

Have a great day,

Duane

P.S. – If you enjoyed this story, be sure to check out some of my other stories. I believe you will find many of them to be just as much fun.


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